


Missing Words

by Lady_Tragedy



Series: Missing Words [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Artsy Peeta is my aesthetic, Book 1, Canon-Typical Angst, Canonical Character Death, Comfort, Demiromantic Katniss, Demisexual Katniss, Developing Friendships, F/M, First POV, Fluff, In canon universe, Mild Angst, Multi, Platonic Relationship, Platonic Threesome, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slow Burn, alternative ways of loving, apparently because I don't know how to keep my stories short, because romantic relationships aren't the only kind, but only slightly - Freeform, canonical child abuse (Mrs. Mellark), canonical violence, multiple POVs, polycule, polyromantic character, self-indulgent (sorry for that), slightly OOC Katniss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Tragedy/pseuds/Lady_Tragedy
Summary: The beginning, the middle and the end. But with a twist. Alternatively, HG AU in which Peeta and Katniss are friends since the bread incident, and Gale's name is called instead of Peeta's at the Reaping. Ultra super slow burn. Maybe.
Relationships: Gale Hawthorne & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen & Gale Hawthorne & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Gale Hawthorne (platonic), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Missing Words [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093040
Comments: 51
Kudos: 58





	1. Tiám (the shine in your eyes when you first meet someone)

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally self-indulgent, I won't even try to deny it. Warnings shall be at the beginning of each chapter so please read those carefully, but always expect canon typical violence. Sorry in advance if I forget to add tags as I go. Each chapter is named after some unstranlatable word that (I feel) represents the content.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta meets Katniss. He falls in love, hard.

**PEETA’S POV**

I was five years old and nervous. I remember looking at every child standing at the front gate of the school waiting for it to open and thinking: ‘ _Are any of them going to be my friend?_ _’_

I hoped so. I hadn’t had many friends growing up, and my brothers didn’t really count as good company. They used to team up against me whenever Father was bussy at the bakery, calling me names and pushing me around. 

Bran, the oldest, liked to mock me in front of our mother, because he knew she’d look away and pretend she hadn’t heard anything. He was her favorite, after all. Her firstborn, the heir to the family business. Even Rye was better liked than me; he was the spare in case Bran died or went against Mother’s wishes. 

I was just another mouth to feed, a mistake. The unfortunately stronger twin that survived while his sister was a stillborn. Mother would never let me forget I was just a failed attempt at having a daughter she could dress up and marry off to better our family’s standing in the District. 

Finally going to school was both the most exciting and most nerve-wracking thing that had ever happened to me. I always heard my brothers complaining but didn’t give them much credit; I figured we were so different that whatever they despised I’d probably like. But then, going to school was also kind of frightening. It was the moment the Capitol officially recognized your existence, and from then on, they’d follow your every move, every step. 

My eyes slid over a group of five kids, none of them reaping age yet, that stuck together in a tight circle, at least five feet away from the rest of the children. Their faces were grim, and the youngest looked like she was trying to stop herself from crying. They were Seam, but their oldest brother, Gin, had been recruited by the Capitol for his outstanding academic record as soon as the last Reaping ( _his_ last Reaping) had ended. 

I saw the Peacekeepers dragging him across the street towards the train station, his sobbing parents following as closely as they could, occasionally grabbing at his hand or parts of his clothes before the Peacekeepers swatted them away. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the bakery window gave me an excellent view of the moment Gin was shot in the knee for trying to make a run towards his mom. I saw him fall on his hands and knees (well, at least the uninjured one) and reach one blood-stained hand to touch his mother’s shoe for a brief instant before being hauled up and away by the Peacekeepers. The trail of blood remained visible on the cobblestones for a few days before the summer rain could wipe it off. 

When I asked my father about Gin, he just looked at me with those sad, worried eyes he usually had on Reaping mornings. 

“Seam kids don’t have it easy at all, Peeta,” he said in a low tone, and immediately looked over his shoulder as if to check no one was near. “He’ll probably have a better life from now on, because he was smart. But you are Merchant, so you don’t have to get good grades all the time; your life will still be good if you don’t.” 

I stared at him, confused. Father wasn’t always the best to communicate his thoughts. Sometimes it was like he spoke a different language, and usually I got what he meant after thinking about his words for a couple days. I didn’t always bother to understand. 

Looking at Gin’s brothers, I understood the gist of what my father was trying to tell me: outstanding meant bad. It meant you got taken away from your District and your family, never to be seen again. I resolved to learn as much as I could but copy my brothers’ behavior as often as possible. They weren’t brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, so if I was like them at school, I should be safe. 

I was so lost in my thoughts that when Father tapped my shoulder, I jumped a bit. 

He smiled indulgently at me before redirecting my attention towards a little girl wearing a red dress, and a tiny white ribbon at the end of both of her braids. She was fidgeting a lot, taking in the multitude with big grey eyes and a slight smile on her round face. 

“You see that girl over there, Peeta?” My father asked. “I was going to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.” 

I turned to gape at my father so fast I hurt my neck. “A coal miner?!” I exclaimed, astonished. “But why would she do that?” 

Father smiled again but in his eyes was a shade of sadness I had never seen before. He looked up, and I followed his gaze to the blonde woman that held the little girl’s hand. She was bearing a beautiful blue dress with matching shoes, and even though she looked worn and thin like everyone in the Seam, her light blue eyes shone when she smiled at the tall dark haired man holding the girl’s other hand. 

My father’s voice was soft and low when he answered, “Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.” 

I didn’t have time to reflect on that statement because then the school gates opened, and teachers started to call us youngsters in first. I barely remember saying good-bye to my father before being dragged to a small sad classroom that contained the thirty something five-year-olds with whom I’d share classes for the next thirteen years. 

After some quick introductions, the teacher asked who knew the Song of the Valley. I wasn’t really surprised when _she_ raised her hand, considering what my father had just told me, and I could feel the burn of curious anticipation in my stomach as I watched her climbing on top of a wooden stool. 

But then she sang, and I could swear that every bird outside the window fell silent. I think that’s the moment I knew my eyes would forever shine for her the way her mother’s shone when she smiled to the coal miner. 

For years after that, I was often frustrated by my inability to find a word to describe what I had felt that day. All that frustration went away, though, when I saw that same shine in her eyes... when she first smiled to me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3


	2. Tiám Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We know Peeta was a goner as soon as Katniss opened her mouth, but how did it start for her? One thing is for sure, Katniss Everdeen's heart takes longer to warm up to other people, even the boy with the bread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW for in canon depression, and hunger and I guess child abuse. You've been warned.

**KATNISS POV**

It was raining, and I was cold. 

Tired, and cold. 

My mind was blank. Any thoughts I might had had scattered when the first droplets started to fall from the sky. 

Hunger. 

Emptiness. 

Despair. 

Cold. 

So, so overwhelmingly tired, and cold. 

Miserable was not enough to describe how I felt when I finally let my forehead rest against the apple tree behind the bakery, torturing myself with the hot buttery scent of freshly baked cookies. I wanted to cry but knew it would get me nowhere and I’d end up more tired and hungry than what I already was. 

I opened my eyes, vaguely wondering when I had closed them, and saw Prim’s baby clothes laying there on the mud. Small waves of various emotions racked my brain: anger at myself for dropping the clothes without noticing, relief for not having to carry the useless bundle back home, sadness because I couldn’t get even one measle scrap of ration grain to feed Prim. 

My father’s jacket was soaking wet and almost too heavy on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to move just yet. 

‘ _One more breath, Katniss. Rest just for one more breath and then you go home.’_

A new wave of despair threatened to sink me on the ground when I heard Mrs. Mellark’s angry voice yelling at me to step off her backyard. She was saying something about us Seam kids always going through her trash, but I was too tired to fight back. Besides, she wasn’t wrong: I did check the garbage containers, but they had just been emptied, not a crumb of bread to lick off the bottom. 

My tired eyes caught a flash of blond hair behind Mrs. Mellark elbow, but it was gone as fast as it had come. It didn’t mean anything to me either, since almost all Merchant kids had blond hair, but then came the crash of something metallic inside the bakery, and more yelling, and next I know there’s a kid with a red cheek out the back door, breaking a loaf of bread in pieces, tossing it to the pigs. 

I couldn’t help but follow his every move, my mouth watering at the sight of that hearty loaf of bread, too drained to feel resentment towards the pigs who apparently ate better than most Seam people did. 

And then suddenly the bread was on the mud, next to my feet, and the kid was peeking into the house before rapidly tossing the second loaf of bread next to the first one, still not looking at me. 

At first, I was dumbfounded. Was it possible that this boy –Peeta, my brain supplied, a classmate- had really given this bread to me? _To me?_ For free? I tried to look him in the eye, seeking either an affirmation or his pity, but he was already turning on his heels and entering the bakery, giving away no sign at all that he had even seen me there. 

My mind was still struggling to understand what had happened when my survival instinct kicked in. I grabbed the hot loaves and shoved them under my shirt, trying to protect them from the rain, and ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. They were burning my skin, but I didn’t care. 

Suddenly I was warm. And for the first time in ages, I felt hope. 

* * *

When I saw him at school the next Monday, Peeta’s eye and cheek were black and swollen. In the two days that had passed since he gave me the bread, the bruise on his face had only gotten bigger and uglier, but at least he could open his eye almost completely. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled on my gut whenever I saw him across the classroom or quietly having lunch beside the other Merchant kids. It made me want to bury my head in the dirt to hide from the guilt. The shame. 

I was sure now that he had purposefully burnt the bread to give it to me. Once I was safe at home, I had quickly scraped off the burnt parts of the bread, and noticed it was almost intact behind a thin black crust, as if it had burned for just a few seconds. The taste was amazing, and the slight charcoal aftertaste was easily washed off with a few sips of mint tea. I wondered then why would Mrs. Mellark throw away two perfectly good loaves of grain bread like that instead of just scraping the crust off like I had done, but after thinking for most of the night, I came to the conclusion that Peeta had done something to make her believe the bread was beyond repair. 

Whatever it was that Peeta did, I was grateful. Having a full belly and watching Prim’s delighted face when she tasted a raisin for the first time in months was a blessing wherever I was concerned. And yet, I hadn’t approached the boy to thank him for saving our lives or apologize for the black eye his mother had given him. 

I hated to depend on other people, but I knew that now I was in Peeta’s debt for the bread. And the first favor is always the hardest to repay, Dad used to say. A painful pang in my chest made me choke; it still hurt to think about my father as something that had ended and would never come back. 

Troubled by all the feelings I couldn’t quite put a name on, I looked down at the cracked pavement of the school courtyard and then my life changed forever. There, between my feet, was a dandelion. The first I had seen since my father’s death. And suddenly I remembered all the hours we spent at the forest together, gathering, hunting, swimming... 

How could I have forgotten? This dandelion right there was how I was going to keep my family alive, and I had everything I needed somewhere in the big, heavy book that my mother kept on a shelf behind the tea tins and her empty glass vials. 

Excited by this discovery, I looked up as if searching for someone to share my amazement with and my eyes locked on a pair of blue ones that were already staring at me. 

At that moment, it felt like a current went through my whole body. I couldn’t bear to return his gaze but turning away was unthinkable too, so I just stayed there holding his eyes, wondering if he’d be mad at me or would want some kind of retribution for the bread he had given me. 

Right when I was starting to panic, his eyes shifted subtly enough that not one muscle moved but I got the message anyway. I turned away and ran towards the restroom, ignoring the calls of a teacher who was yelling at me to slow down, and didn’t stop until I was safe in the privacy of a plastic bathroom stall. My heart was beating madly, either from my mad dash or something else, I didn’t know for sure. The only thing I knew was that the look on Peeta’s eyes wasn’t pity, or entitlement, or even curiosity. 

It was gentleness. The softest, warmest kind of look I had ever seen in my life. 

‘Survive , ’ h is eyes seemed to say.  ‘You can do it.  If you need it,  I’ve got your back . ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering (who am I kidding, no one wonders), no, I don't have a Beta nor I want one (although corrections are always appreciated); yes, I fully intend to finish this story because otherwise I'll loose my mind during quarantine; and no, despite my personal inclination, this story won't have that horrible tragedy I'm known for, only some light angst. Enjoy your fluff. Also, chapters will be posted no matter how bad they are, sorry. I'm in no mood to correct stuff.
> 
> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3


	3. Tiám Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Katniss' twelfth birthday and she signs up to get the tesserae she so desperately needs. Peeta is faced with the very real possibility that Katniss might be Reaped this year, so he resolves to approach her before all is lost.  
> Against all odds, it works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most organic way I could think of to bring them together, but of course I might be mistaken. Warning for a lot of lowkey fluff, nothing more. Enjoy.

**PEETA’S POV**

I was sitting on a wooden stool and bored out of my mind, trying to not fall asleep again on the bakery’s counter, when I saw her through the window. She was walking with a scowl on her face, squinting against the blinding sunlight and dragging along a red toy wagon loaded with three heavy-looking sacks, and a big plastic bottle full of some yellow substance. 

Dread made me shiver violently. Those were tesserae sacks of grain, and the bottle must’ve been oil. Tesserae oil. 

Tesserae. 

“Oh God, Katniss, no,” I whispered, and reflexively covered my face with both hands, trying to protect myself from the horror. Even though I knew we both would be reaping age this year, for some naive reason I hadn’t ever considered the possibility of her name going into the bowl more than once. 

I wanted to kick myself. What could I do to help? Give her more bread? How much bread would she take from me before she refused it with that prideful look she always made when someone tried to make her a gift? How much food could I sneak before my mother beat me within an inch of my life when she noticed? 

Anguished, I stood up and pressed my face against the cool glass, trying to keep her in sight for as long as I could, as if that somehow would protect her from taking more tesserae next year. Her narrow back was straight as a rod, a section of the worn cotton shirt untucked from her skirt, reminding me of a little duck tail. Finally, she turned a corner and disappeared. 

_‘Deep breaths, Peeta,_ ’ I told myself, trying to calm down. _‘It was bound to happen. Se_ _am kids always take tesserae_ _, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’_

But rationalizing it wasn’t going to make me forget what I had seen. For the first time, I wondered what had my brothers felt when they had reached their twelfth birthday. 

In my mind, Bran had always been reaping age, even though he was only seven years older than me. I don’t remember ever assisting a Reaping in which at least one of my brothers was at risk, although I know I must have. This year, only Rye and I would stand on the main square; Bran had turned eighteen last autumn, so he was spared from our annual “festivity”. 

Had any of them ever put their names in to receive more grain? I wasn’t sure. How could I? Mother would surely take the question as a personal insult, a judgement against her ability to feed her children, and I’d probably receive a slap as the only answer. In the Mellark household, questions were never welcome. 

_‘What if she gets reaped this year?’_

I’ve barely had this thought when a violent rush of anger and fear swept over me. The mere thought of watching Katniss go on a train to never return was unbearable. Thoughts about injustice and rebellion danced around my brain the rest of the day, weighing down on me like heavy sacks of flour, but no matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t come to a satisfactory resolution. 

The only thing I could think of was to approach Katniss, soon. If I couldn’t protect her from the tesserae, if I couldn’t somehow stop her name from going into the reaping bowl four times this year, then I at least wanted to talk to her just once. Tell her I was sorry for throwing her the bread like she was some kind of animal. For not taking those five extra steps towards her to hand her the loaves. 

And maybe I’d convince her to sing the Song of the Valley again, so I could listen to her clear voice and watch the birds staying silent to listen too. Lulled by the memory of a tiny Katniss singing with her red dress on, I eventually closed my eyes. 

_‘Goodnight, Katniss,’_ was the last thought I had before losing myself in the comforting non-existence of sleep. 

* * *

**KATNISS’ POV**

The sky was blue and cloudless above me, and I couldn’t help but smile slightly. I wasn’t a very expressive person, but sunny days like this meant more game to hunt, and I hoped I’d catch maybe an extra squirrel to trade for at the Hob. Lately our meals had become more elaborated as I brought home different plants, berries and roots to mix with the stew, but they still lacked the rich flavor of the salt. I wondered how much salt was worth one squirrel, and how much would I need to keep our meals as yummy as possible for the next month. 

Suddenly a Merchant boy plopped down on the other side of the bench I was sitting on during lunch, and I instinctively scowled at him for daring to interrupt my thoughts. 

“Hi Katniss,” was Peeta Mellark’s cheery salute, before looking straight ahead at the squalid lifeless tree in the middle of the schoolyard. In his hands was a lined notebook and a piece of something black that had tinted his fingertips the same color. 

Too surprised to do anything else, I replied with a weak “Hi.” 

I was anxious that maybe he’d try to make small talk with me, or that maybe he had approached me to finally ask me to repay the bread favor, but he kept staring at the tree as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world and didn’t turn to look at me once. 

I realized I was gaping at him, so I quickly composed my face in the blank mask I used almost all the time now and focused in finishing my lunch. Sadly, half of it was already gone, so two bites later I was left feeling uncomfortable sitting there beside a Merchant boy. Sometimes Madge, the Mayor’s daughter, would sit next to me and we’d exchange some meaningless pleasantries before eating our respective lunches in companionable silence, but other than her almost no one dared to sit so close to me, least of all the rest of the Merchant kids. 

Right as I was about to give some excuse and go away, I heard Peeta say “This doesn’t seem right,” followed by the sound of paper being teared off. Unable to resist the curiosity, I looked at him and found the most foreign expression on his face: a frown. 

I couldn’t remember a single time I had seen Peeta Mellark’s face do anything resembling a frown or a grimace, ever. And honestly, I had done quite a lot of looking in the last few months. Intrigued by what could’ve possibly make him frown, I unconsciously reached out to take the torn paper from his hand before he could obliterate it, and found deep black lines printed on the page. 

“You draw?” Was what came out of my mouth when my brain finally made sense of what I was seeing. It was astonishing. In my hands was an almost perfect replica of the tree in front of us, with all the shadows and scrawny branches and tendril-like roots. I had seen images from the Capitol about their art museums, and I could swear there hadn’t been anything there that deserved to be looked at as much as this little piece of thin lined paper. 

When my eyes returned to his face, he was looking at his feet and awkwardly scratching his left ear, which was bright red. _‘He’s embarrassed,’_ I realized, and for some unknown reason felt all bubbly inside my stomach. 

An awkward silence was starting to settle between us when he asked with a shy little voice, “Do you like it?”

Now I was the embarrassed one. “It’s good,” I managed to answer, before looking down too and silently reprimanding myself for making him feel uncomfortable and wondering why on earth had I thought those things about Peeta’s drawing. What was I thinking? 

Then he snorted, and when I looked at his blushing face, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. I couldn’t remember laughing that way or feeling so light and content since before my father’s death, and even then, only when we were either at the forest or safe at home. It felt good, sharing a moment of silliness with someone. 

For the first time I wondered if the boy with the bread could become a friend. As I took in his light blue eyes sparkling with pure joy, I hoped he would. 

* * *

**PEETA’S POV**

The situation itself had somehow become ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I had seen it, right there inside her grey, big pupils. That shine. A spark of something my heart recognized as familiar. 

Even though physically she looked like her father, her smile – _that_ smile- was completely like her mother’s. And the frustration I had felt for not finding an accurate word to describe that shine dissolved, never to return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3


	4. Brakumbezono (the need for a hug)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first Reaping is near and Peeta has a surprise for Katniss. In the end, the surprised one is him when he gets to see a new facet of Katniss he had never imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this chapter was REALLY hard to write. I literally had to start from scratch almost three times until it was right, so sorry for the late update but I think it was worth it. Shout out to Sleeping At Last's beautiful song, Saturn, which helped me finish this. I'd really like some feedback on this one if you could spare it, I liked the chapter but I'm not sure it was actually okay.  
> Also, Prior chapters have been edited and will continue to be as I check some spelling and grammar mistakes, but I promise I won't change anything that affects the story, so no need to re-read those.  
> Enjoy.

**PEETA’S POV**

It was the last day of school before summer, and there was a heavy atmosphere in the classroom. Tomorrow we would all face our first Reaping, and with it came the burden of facing the fear of the Hunger Games for the next seven years. There wouldn’t be rest for our souls until we had survived our last reaping, and we would then be immediately swallowed by the obligations and struggles of adulthood right until our death. 

In all honesty, I felt like a dead man walking, enjoying his last day of freedom ever. 

Merchant and Seam kids alike were quieter today, often staring at the empty air with a hopeless look on their faces. Outside, the younger children were already playing around in the schoolyard, running and cavorting with the excitement of being school-free for a few weeks, and some classmates squinted at them through the open windows with barely dissimulated envy. 

The teacher had asked us to stay after school to give us instructions for tomorrow: what time we should be at the square, which clothes were considered appropriate for the event, where should we go to register ourselves, etc. Also, we were given the Capitol mandated speech about how refusing to show up at the Reaping was punishable with prison. As if anyone would ever dare defy the Peacekeepers anyway. 

I tuned out almost at the beginning of the talk knowing that Rye would guide me through what had to be done tomorrow. He never missed a chance to show off, and I was sure that as much as he despised the Reaping, he would avidly offer himself as an “instructor” for poor little Peeta. Little presumptuous shit, he was. At least Bran was honest about it, but Rye liked to play mind games and make me believe we were best friends only to blame me later for some mischief of his. I had stopped believing his “good brother” act a couple years ago, but the longing for a real relationship with at least one of my brothers had never really went away. 

The sudden movement of two dozen bodies leaving the classroom brought me out of my reverie. As discreetly as I could, I sneaked a peek at the last seat next to the window and caught Katniss scowling at her bag as she put inside the notebook she had been scribbling on. An involuntary smile made its way to my lips. She was always scowling so much that I was sure she’d soon develop the deepest forehead wrinkle of the district. I pictured her sixteen and with creases like my father’s and had to bite my lips to stop the laughter from coming out. 

She seemed to notice my eyes on her, but her befuddlement at my laughter was enough to hold her attention instead of sent her running off. This hot-and-cold situation had become a constant between us since our first conversation during lunch almost two months ago. Sometimes I would sit close by or turn to look at her while the teacher was distracted, and she would hold my gaze for a few seconds before looking away, and on a good day she’d curve her mouth up slightly, gifting me with the ghost of a smile. Other times, she would just nod curtly to acknowledge me and then turn away or, in some cases, literally run off to anywhere else. 

I had learned to move carefully around her, but most of all I knew that I needed to be patient. When no one was looking, she relaxed her posture and let some emotion come out through her eyes, and what I saw always made me feel for her. In her eyes was something I couldn’t really put a name on, but I knew it was a mix of sadness, loneliness and a longing for something... although I didn’t know what, yet. Maybe she didn’t either. 

I guessed it might have something to do with her father’s passing, but my gut told me that it was still too soon to breach that subject with her. Luckily for the both of us, I was a naturally patient person. I knew that other kids in my place would lose their temper with my brothers, or my mom. Even my father, for being so passive all the time. But not me. I knew how to wait, to observe. And so, I observed Katniss and gave her space when she needed to and stayed quiet when she wanted to. I tried my hardest to let her decide when to approach me, but never ceased to give her cues hoping she might take up on one, someday. 

It looked like today was the day. 

Once the classroom was empty save for us, she slung her bag over her shoulder and crossed her arms, as if asking for an explanation. The playful curve of her mouth told me she was ready to share my laughter, but the shadow of worry in her eyes made me sober up a little, reminding me why I had started trying to befriend Katniss in the first place. 

The air between us changed, and Katniss’ barely-there smile disappeared. We stayed there, four feet apart, just staring into each other eyes, silently sharing our worries, anxiety and fear for what was to come the next day at two o'clock. Her breathing picked up, and I could see her struggling to maintain her calm; she looked so small and frightened that she reminded me of a bird trying to take to the sky. 

And then I remembered. “I have something for you," I told her, my voice strangely raspy. 

The surprise cut through whatever impossible feeling she was experiencing, and she was suddenly suspicious, narrowing her grey eyes at me. “For me?,” she repeated, and cocked her head slightly to look at me from the corner of her eye. 

I took a deep breath, nervous. I knew she hated gifts, but this was so insignificant that I hoped she would accept it. For some reason, it was very important for me that she didn’t reject it. Cowardice almost won out, but I remembered the Reaping, and the fact that her name would be sorted four times gave me the courage to lift my chin and say “Yes, for you. It’s just a small token, for tomorrow.” 

The suspicion was gone, but confusion had settled in. Before she could voice the twenty-five questions that I knew she wanted to ask, I quickly pulled out of my back the small notebook I used for drawing and ripped off very carefully the second-to-last page. Fearing that if I folded it I’d smudge the charcoal lines, I brusquely showed it to her, almost slapping it on her face. 

Slowly, Katniss took the paper in her hands and stared at it intensely with the most neutral face I had ever seen. Nervousness battled with embarrassment and anxiety within me, waiting for her reaction. I was already regretting giving such a silly token to her, when she looked up with teary eyes. 

My heart almost stopped. Were the tears good? Were they bad? Had I done something wrong? Hadn’t she- 

“It’s beautiful, Peeta,” she whispered, interrupting my inner turmoil and pressing the sheet against her chest, protectively. “I really like it. Thank you.” 

Relief washed over me, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I watched as she gingerly sat on the floor, apparently unaware of the multitude of empty chairs around her, her legs tucked to the side, her calves barely peeking out from under her skirt. The sight before me was enthralling, and I felt a strange tug inside my chest that hurt a little bit but also made me want to smile. 

I walked as softly as I could to look over Katniss’ shoulder at the drawing I had made, almost wondering if it had magically changed since I last saw it to make her look so moved. But no, there were the carefully drawn lines, the slightly smudged shadows, and the tiny rip on the side where the charcoal had punctured the paper. I had done my best effort, but I also knew that it was far from being perfect. 

Prim’s smiling face was looking at us from the paper, her hair up in two braids and wearing the dress I had first seen Katniss in. Holding her in a tight embrace was Katniss, although you could only tell it was her because of her distinctive braid, since only her back was visible in the picture. 

I had wanted to draw Katniss so bad, but also knew she’d feel supremely uncomfortable receiving a drawing of herself, so I had settled for the one thing I felt she’d wholeheartedly love: a picture of Prim and her, but with Prim being the main focus of it. Photos in District 12 were so rare that I figured Katniss didn’t have any of her sister, and thought she might like to have something to remember her in case she... In case she went to the Capitol. 

“When have you ever seen us hugging?” 

Katniss’ question caught me off guard, so I simply blurted out the truth. “I haven’t. But I’ve seen Prim at school, and I know you too, so I just...”, I stammered, unsure of whether I was answering correctly or if I was coming off as an arrogant brat. “I just. Imagined it, I guess. I thought you would like it,” I tried to explain, thrusting my hands in my pockets, not knowing what to do with them. 

Sighing, Katniss sprang to her feet and turned to face me. I instinctively took a step back, startled by the sudden closeness. Her next words though, left me speechless. “Why would it matter that I’d like it?,” she said with a choked voice. 

My vision of Katniss suffered a major shift right then. Where before I only saw a beautiful, strong, unapproachable fierce girl, now I could also see the hurt scared child that had had to grow up way too fast. The rictus of pain on her face was unmistakable; it was the exact same expression I made when my Mother praised Bran or ruffled Rye’s hair while she rolled her eyes at my attempts to gain her affection. 

It was like a revelation to finally see Katniss on the same plane as me, so to speak. It felt like a blindfold had fallen off my eyes, allowing me to see, truly see, the human behind the idolized ideal of Katniss I had forged in my imagination all these years. In that moment I longed to hold her in my arms tightly, to see if I could glue back together the broken pieces of her heart. And then I understood. 

“Because I care, Katniss,” I said firmly. Taking a step towards her, I looked straight into the soft grey of her eyes, willing her to see the truth of my words, to believe in me. “Because someone _should_ care.” 

Her eyes closed and a big shuddering breath escaped her lips. Soon the tears were back, but this time she covered her face with one hand, still holding the drawing carefully with the other, shoulders hunched in as if to protect herself from the burdens of the world. I decided to take a leap of faith and do what my gut was screaming for me to do. 

I gently placed both palms over her shoulders, waiting for her to shrug them off or maybe turn away. Neither happened, and instead she rested her head on my chest. If this had happened some other day, I might have been euphoric; today, I just felt the need to protect and console her, to hold her close until she stopped shaking and she didn’t need a hug anymore. 

I put both arms around her, rubbing small circles on her back like I had seen Delly’s mom do, and tucked her head in the curve of my neck. When her arms sneaked around my waist I felt surprised, but then she was clawing at my back and a new wave of sobs wracked her body, and I held on tighter, hoping my warmth would calm her and that the tears would take her pain away. 

Later, when her face was clean and her eyes were dry, she only would look at me shyly from under her lashes and whisper a small thank you before collecting an oblivious Prim and making her way home. I sighed, watching her back disappear as I had done that day she had signed up for the tesserae. 

This time, though, my chest felt lighter. If things went wrong tomorrow, I knew I’d have no regrets now. I had done what I could. I just wished that, for once, the odds were in Katniss’ favor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to explore here what I consider to be Katniss' true nature. I know the Katniss from the books would've never let Peeta in so easily, but let's also remember that at this moment she's still a twelve-year-old and her father has been dead for less than a year now, so although she's already hardened enough to show distrust as her primal reaction, she still lacks that protective shell she developed in canon for five years. Thoughts on this, anyone?
> 
> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3


	5. S'apprivoiser (A mutual process in which both sides slowly learn to trust the other and eventually accept each other)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed and Peeta has definitely lodged himself in Katniss' life. But, how does this interaction affect her life and the person she might become?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so, forget the update daily tag, I'm totally a failure and I apologize for that. I'll still try my best though.  
> This chapter was also really hard to write so I gave it a NaNoWriMo approach, so if there are grammar or spelling mistakes you can spot, please tell me so I can fix them.  
> Also, Happy Birthday to me, so probably there will be a new chapter until the 27th cause I'm too lazy for my own good. Hope you like this, enjoy.
> 
> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3

** KATNISS’ POV**

For months, it was like a dance. Approaching, touching, almost still in our closeness, and suddenly distance, shyness, a painful longing. 

Even though Peeta had never given me a reason to distrust him, I couldn’t bring myself to fully let him in. I was afraid. When my father had died, the pain had been unbearable, and not only because he was family but because he had also been my closest friend, the one I could turn to when I was at my worst. 

Life in District 12 hadn’t been easy even with my father working hard at the mines and hunting in his spare time, and it hadn’t gotten any better once Prim started school. Yet, I could always count on my father to have a smile ready or a song to soothe my fears. Losing that was, I think, the hardest thing to stomach for me. There was no more music in my home, and soon there wasn’t money, nor warmth, nor food. 

It might have been only three months, but the hunger and despair I had experienced during the months before my twelfth birthday had left a scar in me, one I doubted would ever disappear. Peeta, with his bread and his gentle eyes had given me back some hope, and that first dandelion that I’ll always associate with him reminded me that I knew how to survive. And though there were still rough days, my family was getting by. 

There was something about Peeta, though, that made me feel dangerously comfortable. Safe. And I was scared that if I opened my heart to him and then lost his presence in my life, I wouldn’t be able to pick myself up again. I had seen my mother’s grief up close, and I had hated her with passion at first, but there were days in which I could understand where her sadness had come from whenever Peeta missed classes for a day and I didn’t know the reason. 

The worry that would invade me was paralyzing. I always imagined the worst: a fire at the bakery, a contagious disease, once I even feared he had been murdered by his brothers –of course, it hadn’t been true, they had all just caught the flu and therefore had to stay home for a week, but at the moment it seemed the most plausible explanation. If I felt like that with him being just my friend, I could only imagine what my mother had felt when her husband had died like that, out of the blue. 

No matter how cautious I was though, he always managed to slip through my barriers and settle back into my comfort zone. Every time this happenned, I found it took him less and less time to dismantle my defenses, so eventually I gave up and accepted him as a fixture in my life. 

It was around the same time that I met another Seam boy while hunting in the woods. Gale was two years older than me, and a whiz with snares and traps. His house wasn’t too far from mine, and later we found out that one of his brothers, Rory, was the same age as Prim, but we had never talked to each other before. In fact, I remembered seeing him only once: the day my father died, the Mayor gave a medal to each family and a pouch with enough money to sustain themselves for a month. Gale had been there with his two little brothers and a very pregnant mother. 

We decided to trade: I’d teach him to use the bow, and in exchange he’d teach me how to set my own line of snares. At the moment, I wasn’t sure if it was the best choice, so I decided to consult it with Peeta. He had a way to see the world and read people that I envied. He always said the strangest things, or put very deep thoughts inside my mind that I chewed on for hours before I could fully understand his point. I loved how he helped me see things differently using only his words; it was as if he existed in a whole different plane of conscience. 

The sun was starting to set by the time Gale and I slipped under the fence and went our separate ways, each with their own game and a portion of greens we had split as a show of good faith. 

Once I lost sight of him, I threaded quietly towards a big oak at the edge of the Meadow and stopped just a few paces away. There, laying on the grass without a care in the world was a sleeping Peeta. His fingers –all ten of them- were black from the charcoal he sneaked from the bakery ovens to draw, and pressed against his chest was the lined notebook he used to carry around all the time. I smiled; he looked so peaceful and innocent while he slept that I almost didn’t want to wake him. Alas, if night fell and he didn’t return to the bakery he would get in trouble, so I gently nudged him with my boot. 

“Peeta,” I called softly. “Wake up. Your mother is looking for you with a troop of Peacekeepers.”

Magic words, they were. He sprang to his feet in the blink of an eye and started to look around frantically. His hair looked ridiculous: it was sticking up in every direction and had grass and leaves tangled with the blond strands. Also, the hilariously wide eyes didn’t help my effort to not laugh, so I cracked up and fell to my knees holding my belly, howling with laughter. 

He just pressed a palm against his heart, trying to recover from the fright, and when he was calm enough he narrowed his eyes at me, annoyed. “Ha ha. Very funny Katniss,” he said in the most flat voice I had heard from him. 

“Sorry, you looked so peaceful that I really couldn’t help it,” I told him, trying both to stop chuckling and to assess exactly how mad he was at me. When I noticed the creases on his forehead didn’t seem to go away, I sighed and put on a serious face. “Peeta, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you so bad, I promise.” 

He crossed his arms, but instantly let them fall. I regretted scaring him then; he was such a beautiful person that he would let grudges go immediately even if he hadn’t fully gotten over his negative feelings yet. Once I asked him why was that, and he shrugged. “I just don’t see any point in making someone I like feel bad when they already apologized. Either I’m going to forgive them anyway, or I won’t, so if I still like them after what they have done, I try my best to leave the bad stuff behind.”

As he sat down again and carded his fingers through his messy hair, I thought for the millionth time that Peeta Mellark was the best human being I knew. A slight pang of sadness hit my chest when I realized that, if my father was alive, they’d probably be good friends too. 

“Are you still mad? It’s okay if you are,” I whispered. That was another thing Peeta had taught me: being angry or upset wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was just something that happened, and that would eventually go away. Thinking like that had helped me stop believing that he’d stop being my friend if I did something he didn’t like; I knew now that Peeta’s friendship wasn’t something he’d take away, probably never, unless there were very good reasons. 

He tilted his head to look at me in the eye, and after a short silence he answered, “I’m a bit upset, but I’m not mad. I didn’t like to wake up that way, but it’ll be okay.” 

Still worried, I bit my lip and started toying with my thumbs, nervous. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he said, and patted the spot next to him on the grass, inviting. I gingerly lowered myself to the ground and sat on my heels, reveling on the warmth radiating off his body and the soft breeze that blowed from the woods. 

We stayed there in silence, watching the sun set, until only a small sliver was visible above the mountains. By the time Peeta stood up and helped me up, the bad feelings had gone away and I could tell we were back to the comfortable peace we had started to share the day before our first Reaping. 

I smiled at him, and started the walk towards the cinder road that lead to town. Behind me, Peeta trudged on with his incredibly noisy steps that I had mocked at first but that now found oddly reassuring. That boy, Gale, had such a silky thread that he had managed to scare the life out of me when he first spoke. 

Which reminded me. 

“Peeta,” I said, looking over my shoulder to see if he was paying attention. “I met a guy on the woods today. His name is Gale, and he is Seam too. He was hunting, and caught four fat rabbits with a very impressive set of snares.” 

Peeta picked up speed until we were walking shoulder to shoulder. “A guy from the Seam? How old is he? Did you talk to him?,” he questioned. He seemed worried, so I rushed to tell him about the whole encounter, and the bargain we had made. 

We were just reaching the road when he said, “Well, if he can teach you how to hunt more, then you should definetly try to get on with him, no?” 

I bit my lip again. “But what if he isn’t trustworthy? What if he tries to steal my game or threatens to hand me over to the Peacekeepers?” Once I voiced my worries, I couldn’t stop the dread that I had tried to fight off since meeting Gale. I was scared to trust someone else with something as important as my family’s survival. 

“Well,” Peeta placed both palms over my shoulders in that reassuring way he had. “If that happens, then we’ll find a way to make him pay. Maybe tell his mom or something. And as for the Peacekeepers, he’d be compromising himself if he tried, don’t you think? Besides,” he added, lowering his voice and speaking almost in my ear, “that’s why I’m spending my afternoons out of the bakery, right? As an alibi in case someone wonders where you are?” 

I step ped back from him, smiling. Yeah, that was the reason indeed. He had insisted, of course, but not once had he complained about  having to spend hours sitting under the oak or about the daily scolding I was sure his mother gave him for “lazing around”. And, honestly, I did feel a bit more secure knowing that he’d cover for me if anyone happened to stick their nose in my  business .

“Right,” I replied, nodding. “So, Gale...?” 

Peeta was already walking away, but he turned around to reply, “Let’s give him a chance, and see where it goes.”

I smiled wider. Somehow, Peeta always managed to make my fears go away. I was just turning my back on him when he called me again. 

“And Katniss!” 

“What?!” I yelled back. 

“Stay safe!,” he said, before turning around and starting to run. 

I watched him rush down the road feeling like I might cry from how happy it made me feel to hear him say that. Lately, not even my mom told me to be safe, even when I was going to the woods. 

It felt good, knowing he cared. As I walked home, I thanked the moment I had let him in. Life was incredibly better with Peeta around. 


	6. Mokita (a painful fact everyone is aware of, but which no-one mentions out of compassion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Prim's tenth birthday, and Peeta will spend it for the first time with the Hawthornes and Everdeens in a friendly gathering. But then unexpected confessions happen. Promises are made. And secrets are kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Sorry for the long absence, I'm definetely getting rid of that "updated daily" tag, I'm sorry. This story is becoming increasingly difficult to write since the characters have decided to have a mind of their own and won't let me follow the original draft to the letter, but I think it's strangely coming out better, so I'll let them be and we'll see where this takes us.  
> This chapter is longer than usual, in part to make up for the long wait, and in part because of everything that needed to happen now, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Little warning for mild angst.

**PEETA’S POV**

The sun was barely reaching its zenith when I finished the last touches of Prim’s tenth birthday gift. Gale had stopped by earlier to help me set up the new goat’s small house, teaching me how to correctly nail the roof on top of the wooden structure and even building a little ramp. 

As the morning passed the goat house had looked better and better, so sometime around eleven o’clock I had sent Gale home to take a bath and get ready por Prim’s party. I still had to paint the whole thing and wanted time alone to do it. I was excited: it had taken all three of us saving up for months, but we had managed to get real paint and some makeshift brushes for what we thought at first would be simply a playhouse for Prim, but ended up being a shelter for their newly adopted pet. 

It was my first time ever using real art supplies, so I almost couldn’t stop my hands from trembling. Prim’s birthday aside, this was one of the best days of my life. I opened the small bottle of blue paint and found myself wondering what Katniss would wear to the party today. I had caught her trying to be all sneaky at the Hob, buying a light pink ribbon, and my curiosity was piqued. I hoped she would indulge my pleads and finally let me see her with her hair down. 

Gale and I had an ongoing feud about this ever since Katniss had lost her hairband while fishing at her father’s lake last summer. Gale swore he had watched her with her hair down for ten full seconds before she noticed and hurriedly braided back her dark locks with a piece of grass, but as Katniss neither denied nor confirmed the event, it had become a recurrent topic whenever we argued over who knew Katniss the best. 

It was silly, probably, but our mutual crush on Katniss had been the only common ground we had found, and it had become a sort of friendly rivalry that had helped us to develop a surprisingly easy-going friendship. After two years of dealing with each other because of Katniss –and _only_ because of her- Gale and I had finally reached a tacit agreement to protect her at all costs and keep our egos out of the way until she decided for herself who’s affections she wanted to pursue. That also meant we had to play fair: no trash-talking the other and no manipulating Katniss to forego the other’s friendship, never forcing anything on her, and the most important rule was, of course, never trying to reel her in her with the promise of food or safety. Other than that, we both were free to try to win her as boldly or as slyly as we wanted. 

Nowadays though, we were content just being around her. Sometime before the last Reaping, Katniss had confessed to the both of us that she never wanted to marry and have children, and that kind of put us back on square one. Although it had surprised me at first, I got her reasons quickly enough. As she once told me, the hunger she and Prim had gone through after her father’s death was something she would never forget, and I understood why she wouldn’t want a kid of hers to go through the same. 

I had decided it didn’t matter. I was only thirteen back then, but I knew I loved Katniss and I’d do whatever she asked of me, always. Gale, on the other hand, had distanced himself for a few weeks before he, too, reached the same conclusion. I think. We’ve never talked about it. The only worry I have is that, when the time comes and we’re all free from the looming threat of the Reapings, Gale will try to somehow convince Katniss to marry him. There are moments when I think he hasn’t given up on that, as if he didn’t know just how stubborn Katniss could be. 

“Peeta, are you done out there?” called Mrs. Everdeen from inside the house. 

I stood up and rushed inside, carefully cleaning most of the paint off my fingers with the wet rag she was handing me. “All done now, Mrs. Everdeen. Want to come out and see it?” I asked, impatient to show someone the goat’s house. I was pleased with the result but still felt nervous about it. I could only hope Prim liked what I had done. 

“Not right now, sweetheart,” she replied apologetically. She signaled towards the small table were Prim’s cake was. “Would you care to do the honors?” 

I smiled and grabbed the small frosting bag I had managed to sneak out of the bakery. Dad had sold Mrs. Everdeen the cake, a simple vanilla bread with a thin layer of strawberries in the middle, but with no frosting on since it costed extra. Even though Katniss said it was fine like that –they had only had bakery cake once before, on Katniss’ own tenth birthday, and it was always a treat- I couldn’t let Prim eat a sad, unfrosted cake, so I had changed the design on the top layer of the shoemaker’s wife birthday cake last week, and had stored the pink paste at the very bottom of our fridge. 

Surprisingly enough, it worked. Although maybe my father had intentionally left alone the suspiciously small paper bag under his squirrel meat when I asked for permission to take the Saturday off. When I had left the bakery this morning after helping Rye out with the sweet bread, Father had smiled at me and asked me to “give the little girl a hug”. I had nodded, embarrassed, but didn’t ask him anything. Neither did he. 

It took all of my baker tricks to make the frost cover all of the cake, and I had to hide a bald spot right on the center with a sliced strawberry –good thing Katniss had brought some from the woods today- but soon it was ready. I frowned, eyeing the cake critically, but Mrs. Everdeen’s laugh made me turn to look at her. 

“You’re just like your father,” she said, her eyes fixed on me but lost in the memories of her past. “The cake is beautiful Peeta. I’m sure Prim will really like it, thank you.” 

She patted my shoulder gently, and I returned her smile. Katniss’ mother had this effect on me, that much like her daughter I couldn’t remain upset for long after she complimented my work. I wondered for the umpteenth time what my life would have been like if I had a mother as affectionate as Mrs. Everdeen. 

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. 

“I’ll go wash up outside,” I told her as she welcomed in Hazelle, Gale’s mother, and his three little siblings. I scurried outside and went to wash my hands, trying to peel off both the paint and the greasiness of the frosting. I spent more time than strictly necessary letting the water run through my fingers; it wasn’t the first time I spent time with both the Hawthornes and the Everdeens, but the only other time we had all gathered together had been after last year’s Reaping, when I had joined them at the Meadow for the celebratory party most Seam residents participated in, and I had gotten the impression that Gale’s mother didn’t like me that much. 

That day, Mother had suffered a terrible headache as soon as the Reaping was over and had locked herself inside her room for the rest of the afternoon, and since we had already finished the cakes and breads for the day, Father gave me and my brothers permission to go out with our friends. Bran and Rye had made a beeline for the slagheap, not turning once to ask where I was going, and I had meandered around town aimlessly before remembering Katniss’ invitation to the party. 

Scared but determined to spend time with her if I could, I had reached the Meadow and quickly been introduced to both Gale’s and Katniss’ families. Before that, I had only talked to Prim once, at school, but after spending the evening among the Seam folk I had become a sort of asset for them: the Merchant boy that befriended Seam kids without batting an eyelash. Almost a year later, I felt like I knew Katniss’ neighbors better than my own, and whenever I met some of them in town, they winked at me before passing along pretending they didn’t know me. It was better for me that way; they all knew about my mother’s legendary temper, and with their secrecy they kept me safe. 

Still, there was something about watching Gale’s family interacting with the Everdeens that made my belly ache. Among them, even with Mrs. Everdeen and Prim’s Merchant features, I felt terribly out of place. Like I didn’t belong in Katniss’ life, no matter how hard I tried. More than fearing her not returning my feelings, I feared she would abandon me for Gale when she realized exactly how different we were. 

Just as my thoughts threatened to swallow me whole, I looked up and found her already looking at me. She smiled, and at once my fears retreated; all was good in the world. 

We stayed there for a while, contemplating each other. I had found early in our friendship that Katniss stared a lot. At first it had made me uncomfortable, but now I just stared back, taking the chance to observe the curve of her eyebrows and the shades of grey in her eyes. It was difficult not to lose myself in the depths of her perpetual frown, but today wasn’t about us so I broke the silence. “Where is Prim?” I asked. 

The sisters had left for the Hob early so Gale and I had time to get Prim’s gift ready, and I hadn’t seen Prim then, because my assistance to her party was also a surprise. 

“She’s inside, greeting Vick and Posy,” she said, a gentle smile softening her features. She always looked like that when she talked about Prim. “Rory went to get Gale and the goat. Do you want to wait for them outside or would you like to see Prim now?” 

Her head was slightly cocked to the side, and a few rebel strands of hair framed her face, dancing with the warm breeze coming from beyond the fence. She looked beautiful under the bright sunlight, as relaxed and happy as I had ever seen her. Wanting to hold on to our time together, I smiled and said, “I’d like to wait here, if it’s no problem. I want to see her face when she sees me, and then the house, and then the goat.” 

Katniss smiled wider. “Yeah, this will be a birthday she’ll never forget. So many gifts in one day!” Her eyes sparkled. I could tell she was more than satisfied with today’s events; giving Prim gifts seemed to be one of the few self-less activities Katniss liked to engage in. Suddenly, Katniss’ eyes clouded. “At least she’ll have some good memories to hang on to before her first Reaping.” 

Silence fell. This year Katniss and I would go through our third Reaping, and I knew her name would be in the bowl twelve times. Gale’s case was even worse: at age sixteen, he had thirty entries. I, on the other hand, only had three. As always when the topic came up, I battled the shame and pity that threatened to overwhelm me. Being friends with kids from the Seam had opened my eyes to all the of injustice and inequality I had always assumed as the natural order of things, and even though it frightened me to no end, I had already come to a resolution. 

I squared my shoulders and extended my hand towards Katniss. Confused, she held out hers too and touched my palm with her cool fingertips. I gripped her hand firmly and looked straight into her eyes. “Katniss, I promise that if either Prim or you ever get Reaped, I will volunteer and help you win the Games,” I said with the steadiest, most serious voice I could manage. 

A gasp left her mouth. She tried to step back, but I didn’t let go. I was expecting her to try and physically distance herself from my words; it was a thing she had been working on but still was her default defense mechanism when she felt uncomfortable. This time, though, it was important she didn’t retract into her shell. 

“Stop right there and listen to me,” I pleaded. Katniss squeezed my hand harshly, and I could see a barrage of emotions passing through her eyes: fear, relief, anger, gratitude, and finally something that looked a lot like pain. I committed her face to memory to decipher later, and feeling rather bold after my declaration, I raised my other hand to lightly caress her cheek. “I will volunteer if one of you is ever picked. That is a fact. If that happens, I’ll do my very best to protect you inside the arena. That is another fact. I’d give up my life for either of you at any given moment. That is also a fact. Do not ever doubt this, Katniss.” 

I had barely stopped talking when Katniss curled her free arm around my neck and dragged me impossibly close. A shiver ran down my spine. Instinctively, I let go of the hand I had been holding and encased her in the first hug we had shared since we were twelve. With my right arm I circled her waist, pressing her body to mine, and with my left I cradled her head, threading my fingers through her braid, desperate to feel her warmth, to assure myself she was still here with me, as safe as she could be. I buried my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of forest, soap and sweat that I had learned to associate with her, and lost myself in the comfort of her quiet acceptance of my promise. 

Still holding on to me with both arms around my neck, Katniss spoke. “Why are you doing this, Peeta?” 

My heart wanted to escape my chest, and I felt like I was about to laugh and cry all at the same time. I realized this was it. It was the moment to tell her about that time she had sang for a classroom full of children, and about the rain, and the bread, and the drawings of her that I kept hidden under my bed. I felt strangely calm when I answered, “Well Katniss, I do it because I love you. I have always loved you, ever since I met you.” 

To my surprise, she didn’t try to run away. She simply held me tighter and asked, “Does this mean you want me to be your girlfriend?” 

“Not if you don’t want to,” I replied. 

“But won’t you want me to be your wife?” She asked again, with the smallest voice I had ever heard from her. 

Once again I said, “Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Don’t you want to have kids?” She huffed impatiently, pulling away just enough to see my eyes. 

I smiled softly. “I’d love to, but I wouldn’t make you have them if you don’t want to.” 

“Won’t you be unhappy if you don’t marry and have a family of your own?” Her big eyes were tearing up, and something inside my chest ached when I realized she wasn’t rejecting me, but instead trying to make me understand she couldn’t give me everything I wanted. 

“I will never be unhappy as long as you’re still my friend and _you_ are happy,” I answer honestly. Feeling the need to explain myself, I tell her, “I won’t ask of you anything you don’t want to give me. And I will always give you everything I can, not expecting anything in return. That’s how love works for me.” 

She kept scrutinizing my face for a few more seconds before resting her forehead on my shoulder again. “Does love work differently for every person?” She questioned in that way she had, as if she sincerely believed I had all the answers. 

I considered the matter seriously as I adjusted my hold on her and pressed my lips against her hair, allowing my thoughts to flow freely. Even though I had craved to hug her for a long time, I found that just like the last time, I felt less exhilarated than I had expected. It was almost as if having Katniss close put an instant stop to my ever-present anxiety, filling me with a sense of safety and peace. 

Finally gathering my ideas, I replied simply, “We all look different on the outside, and not everyone thinks and does things the same way others do. Why would love work the same way for every person if we are not all the same?” 

Katniss straightened her back and stepped back. My arms slid from her thin frame, but instead of letting them hang by my sides she captured my hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over my knuckles in small circles. “If that’s so, I think...” She stopped, biting the inside of her cheek. I felt tempted to tap her chin to remind her not to chew on herself –something I had to do way too often- but settled for briefly squeezing her fingers, prompting her to continue. “I think I might love you too.” 

I felt my heart soaring. Never in my craziest dreams had I imagined Katniss would tell me those words. Even if we had only talked about it superficially, I knew she was afraid of loving someone because of the way her mother had suffered when her father died. She said she understood now, but I knew that it would still be a long way before Katniss felt ready to open her heart and talk about her feelings with anyone, let alone me. 

Yet, I didn’t let myself to get lost in the moment. I needed to make sure that this wasn’t a “caught in the moment” kind of thing, so I gently lifted her hands to my lips and kissed both of her palms before saying, “Why don’t you sleep on it for a few days and then tell me what you think?” 

A scowl surged on Katniss’ previously relaxed face, and I let out a snort. “You think I’m not capable of knowing my own feelings?” She challenged, offended. 

“I’m not saying that,” I tried to pacify her, and let go of her hands. “All I’m saying is, today is Prim’s birthday, and we should be paying attention to that right now. We have time to discuss this later. I’m not going anywhere, Katniss.” 

As always, invoking Prim’s name worked like a charm. “Alright then. But after the party, we’ll talk,” she said crossing her arms, defiant. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” I agreed, mimicking her posture. 

A shy smile curved Katniss’ mouth. Before I could react, she placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned up to kiss my cheek. Too stunned to talk, I covered the place her chapped lips had touched with my palm, protecting it from the wind. 

“Thank you Peeta,” she said, before turning on her heels and entering the house. 

It was a minute or two before I fully recovered myself from the impression, but right as I was mentally preparing myself to go into a house full of Hawthornes I caught Gale’s steely eyes looking at me a couple houses down the road. He was carrying Prim’s goat, the pink ribbon I had seen Katniss buy before wrapped around the animal’s neck, and his face spoke of utter heartbreak and defeat. 

A stone settled in my gut. 

He had seen what Katniss had done, no doubt. And he was suffering for it. 

I held his gaze, feeling strangely ashamed and horribly sad even though I had not broken any rules and hadn’t even planned things to go this way right now. For the first time, I realized that Gale and I shared now a secret we had to keep from Katniss at all costs. Now that she had chosen, she couldn’t know about Gale’s feelings or she might end up rejecting us both and closing herself up from further interaction to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings, her own emotions be damned. 

Right as I was trying to figure out how to approach the subject with Gale, I saw him breathe deeply, eyes closed. When he exhaled, it was as if something had left his body too. He looked at me again, and this time he tried to compose himself into his usual good-natured persona. 

He nodded, and I knew. 

Our secret was safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did that go? Was it too much? Too little? Please tell me what you think.  
> Also, I'll be editing prior chapters soon, but as I said before I'll only be checking grammar and spelling mistakes so ignore the posting alerts if you have subscribed. Hope you liked this chapter, see you next time!
> 
> If you like this story, please support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> I'll be forever grateful <3


	7. Mokita Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta confessed, Katniss accepted, but what about Gale? Sometimes love isn't something we can control. Sometimes it becomes something a bit... out of the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I'm back. I confess that I didn't know if I'd be able to keep going but this monster has a mind of its own and even though it's not going where I wanted it to, it's definitely going somewhere. I hope you like it, I promise well be back on a regular schedule now. Enjoy!

**KATNISS’ POV**

Prim’s smile had never been brighter than when she first saw her new goat, Lady. It was a small squalid thing with a wound on its shoulder so deep that I swore you could see right to the bone, but to my sister she was the most precious animal in the world. 

As soon as Gale entered the house with Lady in his arms, my sister shrieked at the highest pitch I had ever heard from her and ran to pet the goat’s head, talking a thousand words per second asking where had the goat come from and ‘did she had a name already because I really really wanna name her’. 

I was smiling so widely that my cheeks hurt. My eyes found Peeta’s behind Gale’s shoulder, and we shared one of those charged looks that somehow seemed to communicate our thoughts to the other. _‘Thank you,’_ I wanted to say, _‘because without your_ _idea about_ _pooling our money together_ _, my sister wouldn’t be so happy today.’_

Peeta simply held my gaze and smiled. I felt warm all over and had to fight back the blush that was trying to reach my cheeks. I remembered how prickly his cheek had felt under my lips just five minutes ago out in the backyard, and the way his skin smelled of sweat, soap, and something sweet that was uniquely Peeta. I remembered how he had looked at me when he said he loved me, so open, and soft, and gentle. 

Suddenly, I had the sudden urge to make everyone go away and leave me alone to hide under my bed. What had transpired between Peeta and me had been too intense for me to process, despite the simple words he had put his feelings in. I felt like I had a lot to think, just as he had suggested. Maybe I had been too rash, corresponding his feelings without properly stopping to consider mine. Biting my lip, I averted my eyes and tried not to bang my head against the wall. 

Now was not the time to think about this though, and Peeta -bless his forethinking- had already asked me to focus on Prim’s birthday and leave the rest for tomorrow, so with one last inner scream to vent my anxiety, I shook my head and dragged my mind back to the present. My mom was already pulling herbs and some small bottles with tinctures from the pantry, while Posy and Prim petted the frightened goat -Lady, they called it with soft, soothing voices- to keep it still on the floor. Hazelle was floating around the kitchen searching for clean rags to use as bandages and instructing Vick and Rory to fill a bucket with clean water to clean the goat’s wound, which they surprisingly did without complaint. 

Among the frenzy of activity in my house, Gale, Peeta and I stood awkwardly on the doorstep, unsure of what to do or say now that our part was done. Mom and Prim soon went into Healer Mode kneeling next to Lady with Hazelle as their assistant, and all three little Hawthornes watched enraptured the frankly gross process of cleaning the wound, taking out the pus and applying weird-looking pastes and liquids onto it. I felt myself turning a little green. 

“I’m going out,” I announced, trying to save face in front of the little ones, but one grin from Rory told me I hadn’t succeed. I turned on my heel and went straight to the goat’s little house, trying to look steadier than I actually felt. 

Behind me I could feel my friends’ presences, watching me with either concern or amusement, I wasn’t sure. I was too bussy trying to keep my breakfast down to decipher the nuances of their facial expressions, so I closed my eyes and braced both arms on the roof of the goat house. After three years or so of watching my mother work as a Healer, one would think I’d be used by now to the pungent smell of ointments and herbal tinctures, and although I had made great progress on that front, anything that spoke of illness and infection still sent me running for the woods –literally. 

Trying to reign in my queasiness and stop breathing like I had run uphill, I cracked one eye open and studied the little construction Gale and Peeta has spent all their morning building. The walls were a mix of old planks we had scavenged from empty lots around the Seam and some wood scraps of old furniture that Peeta had convinced some of his neighbors to trade or give away. It had taken almost five months to gather all the materials we needed, from nails that we had to trade some wild turkey and berries to get, to the paint and brushes we bought at the Hob after selling Rooba an entire deer Gale and I managed to take down, but now that I had in front of me the final result, I could see all the effort had been worth it. 

There hadn’t been much paint to work with, but Peeta had managed a miracle. There were strokes of blue around the entrance, and both the roof and the little ramp were a soft peach orange that looked oddly familiar but couldn’t quite place. The walls on the outside had an intricate pattern of yellow, red and orange stripes, adorned with random blue and green polka-dots that reminded me of the colorful costumes I had seen a woman wear once when I went to the Hob with my father. The woman looked old and wispy, but her dress was the most vivid color I had ever seen in my life and her voice had been a delight to hear. Maude Ivory had been a close friend of my grandparents, my father had said, and her family, the Covey, were the ones that had taught him most of the songs he used to sing. 

It was the only time I saw Maude or her dress, but the striking colors on the goat house made me wonder whether she was still alive and if she knew my father had died. I felt a pang of nostalgia gnawing on my chest. How had Peeta managed to do something so beautiful with only three pots of blue, red and yellow paint? 

Looking around I noticed that compared to the rest of the Seam, this goat house was a visual luxury that many children would probably make a point to pass by often, if only because colors weren’t so vivid in this part of the District. It was incredible, really, the way Peeta could transform normal stuff into prettier, amazing versions of itself. Much like he had done when entering my life. 

“Are you okay there, Catnip?” Gale asked, placing a doubtful hand on my shoulder. 

I sighed and straightened my back, casually shrugging off Gale. “I’m alright,” I replied, managing to give him the most unconvincing smile of history before turning to Peeta. “The paintwork on this thing is awesome, you did a great job.” 

Bashful, Peeta scratched the back of his head. “Thanks. I tried my best.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell upon us. I looked expectantly at both boys, confused. Usually at this point Gale would be making some biting remark about how anyone could’ve done the same, or how I should’ve thanked him in the first place since he did the building mostly by himself. Then they’d start bantering, and I’d give them a good slap on the head and make them stop, only for them to start arguing about some other equally inane thing until someone called us into the house for the cake. 

This time though, Gale was suspiciously silent, hands shoved in his pockets and feet idly kicking small pebbles. Peeta was trying what I supposed intended to be a nonchalant posture, eyes lost somewhere in the sky, arms crossed and balancing alternatively on his tiptoes and heels. “Okay you two, what’s going on?” I snapped. Their weird behavior was fraying on my nerves and I wasn’t in the mood to guess what silly disagreement they had had. 

Startled, they looked up, but other than a guilty look and a shrug, I got no answer. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, getting ready to bulldoze my way through their silence. “I’m giving you ten seconds to tell me what’s wrong,” I told them, channeling my inner Hazelle. “One.” 

Gale snorted and crossed his arms too, jutting out his chin. 

“Two.” 

I turned to Peeta and noticed his ears getting red, eyes fixed on the ground. 

“Three.” 

The boys exchanged a quick look, and Gale’s eyes hardened. ‘ _Interesting_ ,’ I thought. 

“Four.” 

The pressure was becoming too much for Peeta. His hands kept changing places, as if he didn’t know what to do with them, first hiding them in his pockets, then playing with the collar of his shirt, and finally messing through his hair until his blond locks stuck up at odd angles. 

“Five.” 

I was getting impatient, but so was Gale. Something was boiling under his defiant stance, and I wondered why he was so adamant in keeping his problem with Peeta a secret. He usually loved to tell me in detail about the hundred and one ways that my Merchant friend had pissed him off. 

“Six.” 

Okay, now I was worried. Peeta’s face suddenly looked so grim and serious that I feared this disagreement was something more serious that I shouldn’t be asking them about. One look at Gale’s glazed eyes confirmed this feeling. 

“Seven.” 

I had to keep counting. I couldn’t back down now. If this was something serious, I wanted them to solve it immediately. They were both my best friends, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to manage it if they stopped talking to each other. They were just too important in my life: Peeta kept me grounded and prevented me from getting lost in a sea of bitterness and hopelessness, whereas Gale was the one person I could trust in the forest and the one that helped me get food on my table. A rupture between them would certainly throw me towards that lonely mental space I had been in after my father’s death, when I thought I could trust no one and had to hide my true feelings all the time. 

“Eight.” 

My voice was getting thinner and quieter. I could feel a knot forming in my throat, threatening to choke me. I looked pleadingly first at Gale and then at Peeta, willing them to tell me they were okay and nothing bad had happened. 

“Nine.” 

Peeta sighed, uncrossed his arms and came to me. I looked up at his blue eyes and wondered what the sadness in them meant. He approached me slowly, and tentatively wrapped me in his arms. A relieved sigh let my lips; after the fear of losing them, his embrace felt like bathing in sunlight, warm and comforting. I buried my face in his chest and allowed him to hug me closer. He had just confessed he loved me, so it was okay if I let him get closer, right? Even if I wasn’t his girlfriend yet. That’s what people in love did, wasn’t it? 

But then I heard Gale’s feet turning away from us, and it downed on me. I recalled every day in the woods with him, hunting, gathering, fishing... I remembered how he had tucked my hair behind my ear that time I had lost my hairband while swimming. I looked at him in the light I saw Peeta after his confession, and I understood. 

I wanted to go after him and tell him to come back. To tell him I loved him too, that he was just as important to me as Peeta. But instead I hugged Peeta closer and cried silently in his arms. I was confused, and my chest hurt, and I felt terrible for looking for comfort in Peeta’s arms when my heart was breaking for Gale, but I didn’t know what else to do. Everything had suddenly turned very complicated and my knowledge on relationships wasn’t good enough to discern the right path. 

When Peeta started softly humming the song of the valley and caressing my head, I wondered if he knew why I was crying and how he felt about that. I also wondered if there was a way I could keep both Gale and Peeta in my life without hurting them. I wondered if there was something wrong with me for loving two boys, or not knowing who I loved more. I had never heard anything like that before; people in 12 got married once and that was it, but I knew deep in my heart I’d never be complete if one of my friends abandoned me forever. I wondered if I could talk to Peeta about it. Was it correct? Was it good? Did it matter? Would he be hurt? 

My head spun and the only thing keeping me upright were Peeta’s arms around my shoulders. With effort, I peeled my face of his shirt and looked up at him again. As he wiped my cheeks with his thumbs, I knew he knew. He understood, too. 

But he didn’t say anything. Neither did I. 

Later, when we went into my house to split the cake and show Prim Lady’s house, Gale didn’t say anything either. When his eyes landed on my face, I was sure he could tell I had been crying, he knew me so well after all. After a few more seconds of scrutinizing me, he turned to study Peeta’s impassive expression. 

He must have seen something, because he smiled, and didn’t stop smiling until he left. 

The next Monday, we sat together for lunch as usual. Nobody said anything about what had happened, and after a couple failed attempts, both Peeta and Gale engaged again in their usual competitive banter. Although forced at first, our friendship went back to normal in a matter of days. 

Talk about feelings was avoided at all costs.

But sometimes, when walking back home after a day hunting, Gale would hold my hand. Other times, when spending the afternoon together at the Meadow, Peeta would kiss me on the lips. 

And sometimes, when we split our bounty after a good trade at the Hob, the three of us would sit close together, Peeta’s arm around my waist and Gale’s head on my shoulder, both of my hands taken by one of theirs. 

And it was good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, please don't hate me? I didn't even know this was going to happen, but looking at this rarepair, I find I kinda like it. The focus of the story will defninitely be Everlark, but I think Katniss might be a polyromantic character so platonic relationships will be a thing in this story, apparently. Expect more weird ways to express love and queer characters later on, just saying.


	8. Abendrot (The colour of the sky when the sun is setting)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 73rd Hunger Games have just finished and Peeta will turn sixteen soon. But with his birthday comes a choice Katniss doesn't know how to process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for child abuse, off-screen. I think that's it. Also, I'd like to make clear that while the relationship between Gale, Katniss and Peeta might look like an OT3, Gale's participation in it will be mostly platonic and mostly directed towards Katniss. That's where the "alternative ways of loving" tag comes into play, you've been warned.

**KATNISS’ POV**

Gale and I were walking back to the district after a very productive day of hunting. It was summer and the woods were brimming with life; after almost three weeks of restricted time in the forest thanks to the increased security during the Hunger Games, our game bags were finally full of wild turkey, fish, lots of greens, herbs, strawberries and wild turnips. Gale’s traps had hauled more rabbits than we knew what to do with, but the prospect of a rich dinner and a little extra to trade at the Hob gave us both a little skip in our step. 

We stopped to make sure the fence was off, and after a few seconds, Gale slipped under it. I pushed both bags towards him and then proceeded to crawl under the chain links too. I noticed the space was getting tighter; at fifteen it was becoming a bit more difficult to fit in the space under the fence. Maybe we’d have to make a bigger hole soon, since Gale was getting taller and broader by the week. 

I hoped I’d stop growing soon. New clothes and shoes were hard to come by. If I kept getting any taller, soon my mother’s old clothes wouldn’t fit anymore. 

“You alright there, Catnip?” Gale asked as he slung his bag across his chest. 

I shook my head and smiled. “I’m fine. Let’s get going.” 

We walked through the Meadow in companionable silence, holding hands. Since Prim’s tenth birthday, we had been doing this more and more often, and now it felt natural to have his calloused thumb caressing the back of my hand every two steps or so. He hadn’t tried to get closer than that, though, and I was in no hurry to explore the boundaries of our tacit whatever-it-was, afraid that I might ruin the delicate balance we –Peeta, Gale and I- had found. 

Just as we were nearing the point where we usually parted ways, we heard a muffled sob that stopped us in our tracks. Gale gestured at me to stay silent and thread carefully, and we approached the source of the sound with ghost-like steps. It was coming from the tall grass under the oak tree, and suddenly my heart jumped in my chest. I recognized the voice almost at the same time Gale was close enough to take a peek. 

Curled in a ball on the crushed grass, holding his sketchbook against his chest, was a disheveled Peeta, with his blond curls all ruffled and his white shirt rumpled and stained at some points with an unknown maroon substance. His right hand was pressed tightly over his mouth, muffling the heart-wrenching sobs that convulsed him. Tears were falling from the corner of his eyes, and his usually pale skin was all red and splotchy. 

I stood over him hovering, unsure of what to do next. My arms longed to hold him, but at the same time I didn’t know what good that would make. He was clearly distressed, and in that moment I found that for all that Peeta and I had grown closer over time, I had no clue about how to comfort him now. It was always him doing the comforting, and I looked up at Gale, silently begging him to do something. 

Gale seemed as shocked as me. I was sure none of us had ever seen Peeta this way. When a louder cry left Peeta’s mouth, though, Gale sprang into action and kneeled next to him. Extending a tentative hand to lightly rest on Peeta’s shoulder, Gale asked, “Peeta, what happened? What’s wrong?” 

Peeta sat up, startled, looking around like a frightened animal. That’s when I saw the bruise on his left cheek, purple and ugly and swollen, making it impossible for him to open completely his eye. To Gale’s credit, he didn’t jump away at the sudden movement like I did, instead gripping firmly Peeta’s arm, grounding him, letting him know he was safe. 

“Gale?” Peeta rasped out, looking at Gale’s face as if he might be a mirage. Tears were still sliding down his cheeks, and my chest contracted painfully at the sight. I wanted to talk, but my words got stuck in my throat when Peeta’s face contorted in a pained grimace and called Gale’s name with a sob. “Gale!” 

Reaching with trembling arms, Peeta embraced Gale’s bigger frame, hid his face in his shoulder and started to cry louder than before. I could see the surprise in Gale’s grey eyes, but after giving me a sideways look, he wrapped his arms around Peeta too, and held him close. Peeta was shaking so much, I could see it took a lot of Gale’s strength to keep them both upright, but he didn’t complain. 

Eventually, I kneeled beside them, and rested my forehead on Peeta’s back. I didn’t know what else to do except give him my company and warmth the way he had done three years ago, the day before our first reaping. His sobs weren’t subsiding, and soon both Gale and I were fighting back the tears too. When I locked my eyes with Gale’s, I saw there the same pain I was feeling. Pain for our friend’s pain, because he was hurt and we couldn’t help him. It was a pretty new experience for me; I had never felt someone’s pain so deeply, except for Prim’s. 

Wanting to do more, I put my arms around Peeta, but didn’t feel too comfortable since Gale’s hands were trapped between my stomach and Peeta’s back. Sensing my discomfort, Gale shifted his hold so his arms were now around the both of us, his left hand on my shoulder and the right one on Peeta’s. I shifted my arms too, so they circled both Peeta’s and Gale’s waist, and soon Peeta’s right arm came down from Gale’s shoulder to wrap around my back. 

We stayed there in that strangely comfortable group embrace for a long, long time, until the sun started to set and the sky began to turn a beautiful soft orange. His breathing now was calmer and the tears had finally stopped, but he would still sob sporadically as if on the verge of crying again before tightening his hold on us for a second and then sigh quietly. 

Neither Gale nor I had dared to say a word, and I had ended up tucking my head between Gale’s chest and Peeta’s shoulder, with Gale’s chin resting on Peeta’s hair. Although I was worried about Peeta and wanted to know what the problem was, I couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling that invaded my body at the closeness of my two best friends. I couldn’t remember a time when Gale and Peeta had coexisted peacefully since they met; they were always bantering and competing over some thing or the other, and the moments of easy camaraderie between them were rare. 

Inhaling deeply, I reveled in the joy of having them both close, in my arms. _‘Is this what happiness feels like?’_ I wondered. 

“The sun is setting,” Peeta croaked, and just like that, the moment was gone. We all pulled away at the same time, our knees on the grass the only connection that remained. 

I put my hands in my lap and fixed my eyes on the ground. I felt embarrassed for some reason. As if we had done something we shouldn’t. It was just a hug, though. A weird, too-crowded hug, but a hug nonetheless. There was nothing wrong with it. Was there? It came to mind that I had never seen a Merchant and a Seam hugging, and furthermore, I had never seen two _boys_ hugging for that matter. I wondered why that was. 

Pushing away my embarrassment, I glanced at Gale and found him already staring at Peeta with concern written all over his face. I looked at Peeta too and found him carefully wiping his cheeks and nose with the hem of his shirt. The bruise on his cheek contrasted starkly with his fair skin, especially now that he wasn’t red from all that crying. I clenched my hands; that witch he had as a mother was going to pay one day for all the pain she had inflicted on Peeta. 

Once his face was clean, Peeta looked up and gave us a weak smile before turning his eyes to the sky. Gale opened his mouth, impatient, but I covered his hand with mine and gave him that look Hazelle did when she wanted her children to shut up. It worked, and he pressed his lips in a tight line. 

“Had I ever told you that this is my favorite color?” 

Peeta’s question threw us off. Of all the things we expected him to say, this was probably the last thing that had crossed our minds. I was about to snap and demand an explanation when Gale interrupted me. “What color? Green?”, he asked, gesturing at the grass around us. 

Glancing at Gale, Peeta laughed softly. “No, not green. Orange. Like the sky during sunset,” he said, waving above his head. “I’ve always thought there should be a specific name for this exact color, but the closest word I have to describe it is ‘sunset-orange’. Not very satisfactory to say, really.” 

I smiled. That was _so_ Peeta, to ruminate endlessly about colors and their proper name. Gale and I shared a look that was a mix of exasperated and amused, but I noticed he looked as relieved as I was. Reflexive Peeta was a Peeta we could handle. Except for his purple cheek, he looked almost normal now. You’d never know he had been crying unless you were searching for the signs. 

We stayed silent a while longer, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and the stars appear over a dark blue sky. It was strange, having Peeta in the Meadow so late; he usually was back at the bakery before nightfall, but today he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere so Gale and I just sat there beside him, waiting for him to find his words. 

When he finally did, though, it felt like a punch in the gut. 

“I’m signing up for tesserae this year,” he whispered, and I felt my whole body go rigid. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him, afraid that if I did his words would become real and I wouldn’t be able to hide from them. 

Hot-tempered as always, the first to break the silence was Gale. “What do you mean you’re signing up for tesserae this year?! Are you insane?” he exclaimed. I could hear the rustle of his clothes as he changed his posture, probably facing Peeta now, trying to decipher with his intent gaze the method behind our friend’s reasoning. “You are Merchant, why would you even need tesserae? Are you joking right now, because that’s not funny Peeta, _it’s_ _not_.” 

Unable to keep my eyes off any longer, I turned to face Peeta too. His expression was sad, but there was something in the set of his jaw that made me realize he was being serious. “I’m not insane Gale, at least not that I know of, no.” A blaze of anger crossed his face, but it went as quickly as it had come. “The bakery isn’t doing well this year. There was a shortage in the supplies the Capitol sent, and the price of bread lowered a bit, but it seems like almost no one can afford it on a daily basis anymore. The only thing keeping us afloat right now is the number of toasting loaves people had ordered before the Games, but the season will end soon and then my family won’t have anything but stale bread and water to eat.” 

My mind struggled to absorb all this information. 

I had always imagined the Merchants lived a soft, easy life, but my friendship with Peeta had shown me that although it wasn’t as dire as the situation in the Seam, Merchants couldn’t exactly sit back and relax all day long like I had initially thought. Most of them got by well enough to stop their children from taking tesserae, but that didn’t mean they dined with pork chops and fresh vegetables every day. In fact, Gale and I had made a point of inviting Peeta for dinner whenever we could afford it. Since we got our food directly from the woods every day, everything was fresh and savory; two things Peeta’s diet didn’t have much of. Stale bread and watered-down milk weren’t a great meal for a boy his size. 

Gale and I exchanged concerned looks over Peeta’s head. I knew what my friend was thinking: why was Peeta signing up for tesserae instead of his older brother, Rye? He had just one more reaping to go through, so certainly his odds were better than Peeta’s, who still had three more reapings in his future. When I voiced my thoughts, though, I almost wished I hadn’t. 

“It’s because of mom. She says I’m not going to inherit the bakery anyway, so I might as well do something useful for the family,” he told us. The bitterness in his voice surprised me, but the way he repeated his mother’s words as if they were a fact instead of the mean remarks they really were, put a knot in my throat. “She said...” his voice faltered, and I dreaded what would come next. “She said it would serve me well, to take tesserae like my Seam friends so I had more things in common with you,” he finished with a small ashamed voice. 

I was speechless. To think anyone, let alone a mother, say those awful things to a boy –her own child, for heaven’s sake! - was unthinkable. How Ruth Mellark could be so despicably rude was beyond me, and judging by Gale’s murderous scowl, he agreed with me. 

Choosing to focus on what Peeta had said instead of my own anger, I piped up, “What do you mean you won’t inherit the bakery, Peeta? I thought all three of you would keep a share of the business.” 

Peeta shook his head. “No, really the only one who will get the bakery is Bran because he’s the oldest. If I was lucky, my brother would keep me around to help, but since we’re not in the best terms...” he trailed off and started to pluck grass blades by the handful. “I was supposed to marry Delly Cartwright, the shoemaker’s daughter, you know? But I refused to court her event though she kept trying to gain my attention, and they promised her to Rye instead because his fianceé was reaped last year, remember?” I nodded; of course I remembered, it had been a shock for everyone that the seventeen-year-old Merchant girl had been chosen instead of someone from the Seam. “He ended up with a better deal: when the shoemaker retires, Rye and Delly will own the shop.” 

That was another punch to the gut. Arranged marriages? In exchange of economic stability? Were Merchants _insane_? One of the only liberties we had here in Distrcit 12 was the freedom to choose who we married, or if we wanted to get married at all. To think my Merchant classmates had no such power over their own lives was astonishing, but to hear Peeta say he was supposed to marry that simpleton Delly Cartwright to ensure his future made my blood boil. 

I realized I was gaping, but I didn’t care. A hot, unknown feeling twisted my stomach and made me reach for Peeta’s hands, holding on to his fingers as if he would go off to marry some Merchant girl if I let him go. I didn’t know who I hated more: Peeta’s mother, for making him take tesserae just to punish him, or Delly Cartwright, for trying to take Peeta away from me. Of course, she probably didn’t know she was doing it, but that didn’t seem important to my confused, angry mind. 

“So that’s why the Merchants always marry among themselves.” Gale’s pensive voice cut through the nebula of my feelings, and I looked up at him, surprised. He was twirling a grass blade between his fingers, a frown on his forehead and eyes staring right through me, unblinking. It looked like he was trying to puzzle something out but I didn’t have the energy to follow his thoughts, so I let him be and turned to watch Peeta instead. 

Peeta’s eyes were fixed in the small sliver of orange above the mountains, the last rays of light in the rapidly darkening sky. It hurt to see his swollen cheek, but behind the bruise I could see a determination I had learned to associate with respect. It was that look he got when he decided to do something risky, or unconventional, or self-sacrificing, just because of his principles, and nothing Gale nor I did or said could change his mind. There were times when I got angry at him for it, like that time he gave his lunch to a small Seam boy who had tripped and had dropped half his food to the ground; I could tell Peeta was hungry, and I thought that it was the boy’s fault anyway for not being careful, but at the same time I couldn’t help but admire him a little for his compassion and iron will to not accept a bite from me or anyone else. 

When the sky turned completely dark, Peeta stood up abruptly, pulling me up too. He put both my hands in one of his, and offered the other to Gale to help him up. Gale sighed and let himself be hauled, but once standing Peeta didn’t immediately let go of his hand. They stared into each other’s eyes, and I nervously kept looking back and forth at their faces trying to understand what was happening. 

The air between us felt different now, but I wasn’t sure why. 

“Don’t. I won't take it,” Gale said in a low threatening tone. 

I frowned, not knowing what he meant of who he was talking to. I was about to ask him when Peeta squeezed my hands. “I will give it to someone else even if you won’t accept it. You might as well take it,” he replied, shrugging. Gale cursed under his breath and tried to pull his hand away from Peeta’s grasp, but failed. 

Dread creeped up my spine. I had the feeling I wouldn’t like the answer to my question but asked anyway. “What are you talking about, Peeta?” 

He let go of Gale’s hand and squared his shoulders. I had been right about the determination thing, he looked like he was getting ready for a fight. When he answered me, I understood why. 

“I’ve been required to take tesserae only for myself, but I’ll do it for all of my family instead.” I gasped. That meant five extra entries! Why in the world would he do that? 

I opened my mouth, but he lay one finger on my lips and I fell silent. Suddenly I knew what he would say, and I felt like screaming, or running, or beating him for being so stupid, but I did none of it. There was no point though, he wasn’t going to budge, not when he was all riled up like this. I understood Gale’s rage now, and stepped back, letting Peeta’s hand fall limp to his side. 

My legs couldn’t support me any longer, so I fell to my knees. I was tired. Sad and tired. When Peeta spoke again, a new feeling bloomed in my chest. I felt guilty about it, but couldn’t deny it. 

Gratitude. 

“It is not open to discussion” he said. “You won’t take tesserae next year Katniss, and Gale will have one less entry, and that’s the end of it.” 

I was speechless. Less entries meant better odds. For me. For Gale. But not for Peeta. 

I wished we lived in a world where my survival didn’t mean sacrificing someone else’s. I wished Peeta weren’t so selfless. I wished I could dissuade him. 

I silently thanked his stubbornness for keeping me from trying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little one shot spin-off about Peeta's mom that I will upload sometime soon. It came to me in the shower and couldn't let it go after reading a fic about Mrs. Everdeen and her life in town, so I think I should warn you to stay away from it if you want to keep hating Mrs. Mellark forever.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you can, please Support me at: https://ko-fi.com/maryelnats
> 
> It would mean the world to me <3


	9. Onsra (The heart-wrenching moment you know when a love won’t last)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is Peeta's sixteenth birthday, and Gale's going with him to help him retrieve his tesserae. While he's preparing to go help his friend, Gale reflects on Peeta's character and what he's taught him about his own self and his relationship with Katniss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very heavy chapter on inner monologue, but it's important for Gale's character development so bear with me. Also, I know some of you might find this development disconcerting, but let me remind you that our characters are teenagers with confusing feelings and not entirely mature personalities, so their choices change quite a bit with time. I always hated when authors depicted their character's choices as something solid and unchanging, when in real life we change our minds too often.  
> No warnings for this chapter, enjoy!

**GALE’S POV**

I woke to the sound of water splashing and wet clothes dripping over the wooden floor of our home. I wished to stay asleep for a few more minutes but knew that mom would need my help hanging Mrs. Cartwright’s wool blankets over the sturdy tree branch she used to dry the heaviest garments, so without giving myself time to lament it, I sat up. 

The old couch that served as my bed creaked when I moved to stretch first my arms, then my back, and finally my legs. I rubbed my hands over my face and yawned before standing up, wrapping my blanket over my head and shoulders to ward off the chill of the early hours. I went to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of lukewarm coffee from the pot mom always made first thing in the morning –one of the few luxuries we couldn’t live without- and savored it in little sips while wiggling my bare toes. 

Mornings were the most peaceful part of my days, which is why it didn’t bother me that much to wake up before the sun. The children wouldn’t be up until seven, which meant that for the next three hours mom and I would do our chores silently, enjoying the quiet until sunrise, when the first birds sang. Then we would make a pause to take our second cup of coffee together out in the porch as we watched the world slowly come to life, and we’d stay there until either Posy or Vick came looking for breakfast. If it was a lucky day, Rory would be up at a decent time too and wouldn’t put much of a fight when I told him he couldn’t come to the forest with me for my morning rounds; if it was a bad day then I wouldn’t see him until ten minutes before nine, when I came back to the house to leave my game and collect the kids to walk to school. 

Today’s morning routine was a little different though. It was Peeta’s birthday, and he had asked me to take him to the Justice Building to sign up for his tesserae before school. He wanted to do it early so none of his acquaintances could see how many sacks of grain he received or what he would do with them. After arguing about it for what felt like an eternity but really must’ve been only three weeks, we had agreed that it would be safer this way since we weren’t completely sure that giving tesserae to other people was exactly legal. 

I had tried to ask when I went to get mine just las week, but the response of the Capitol official had been threatening, to say the least. “If you don’t need the tessera you can leave it here for someone who does, darling,” the woman had said, and after that I hadn’t said a word. Fortunately, it wasn’t the same woman who used to attend me, so I didn’t have to use the excuse I’d been preparing to justify my asking for only three instead of five (in the end, Katniss had decided we’d split Peeta’s extra rations equally between the both of us, so we each would take two). 

We supposed my presence beside Peeta at the Justice Building wouldn’t seem too odd since a lot of people knew we were friends. After Mrs. Mellark’s remark about Peeta’s Seam friends, we had dropped most of our precautions about not being seen together in public since there was no point to it any longer. To the Merchants Peeta was an outcast anyway, and only a couple of his old friends still talked to him, but the attention still made Katniss nervous, so she avoided Peeta’s company in crowded settings –except school- for the most part. 

So, today I was to be the good Seam gal who guided his Merchant friend through the travesty of signing up for tesserae and helped him carry the heavy grain sacks back home. And the Peacekeepers wouldn’t be thrown by the early visit either: in the weeks we had been observing the activity around the Justice Building, we had noticed that the handful of Merchant kids that did sign their names in usually went before the streets were full of other people, probably to avoid gossip. 

There was so much that could go wrong with this plan that I almost didn’t want to put on my boots and go out. I was still angry at Peeta, but time had showed me that I wasn’t mad at him for risking his life for Katniss and me. I was mad because of the offhanded way he offered food and relief for me and my family, like it was no big deal entering his own name more times than strictly necessary into that deathly sorting. Like he thought that giving me better odds in my last Reaping was worth the possibility of imminent death. Like he would have done it anyway, risk be damned, if I had ever asked politely. 

I had to admit that no matter how I saw it, Peeta was the best man between the both of us. His gentleness and caring for others, even complete strangers, tended to overwhelm me because it showed me that all my excuses for being the distant, cold-blooded bastard I had become since my father’s death were null. I had justified my life-style and refusal to give even a scrap of ration bread to the beggars around the Hob telling myself that if the world were different, if my survival wasn’t so important for my family’s well-being, I’d be gentle and compassionate too. I had blamed the Capitol and their iron hold on our lives for my lack of altruism, and even when I had had food to spare, I hadn’t turned to help my neighbors even once. 

At first, I had attributed Peeta’s attitude to his being Merchant, and therefore never knowing hunger and despair, but he had proved me wrong time and time again. I had seen the signals of abuse in him: the fear at sudden movements, the grimace when someone raised their voice, the longing when Katniss and I took out a berry or two as a treat during lunch. For all that Peeta wasn’t as hungry as I had been, he was hungrier than I was now, and yet he didn’t hesitate to offer half of whatever he had to someone in need. He would make beautiful drawings for Merchant and Seam kids alike to give as birthday presents for their friends or family, and he would never charge them for the time-consuming labor. He would accept what the kids could give him, be it a half-used pencil or a couple pages of white paper. 

After that first time he joined us at the Meadow for the after-Reaping party, he had started bringing the smallest Seam kids the broken unfrosted cookies he claimed no one would buy. One time he even brought a cup of plain brown sugar, and gave away pinches of it to all my neighbors. He never asked for anything in return, and even when he said he was just sneaking the left-overs, I’d sometimes catch a red welt on the back of his arms or a bruise peeking out of the collar of his shirt. I knew what those treats cost him, and yet he seemed intent on keep giving the tired miners and their families at least a little bit of sweetness to make their life more bearable. 

It was no wonder that he was well-liked in this part of the District, but until that day we found him crying with a black eye, I had never really understood what made him reject so much his Merchant life. That day I realized that somewhere along the line, my perception of Peeta had changed from “Merchant boy” to simply “boy”, and that made me question the way I had viewed the world until now. I, who always ranted against the Capitol and how it worked to their favor to pit the Districts against each other, had fallen victim to that same prejudiced division inside my own District and hadn’t even realized it until Peeta. 

When he offered me his tessera, my momentaneous anger was just a feeble attempt at hiding the shame and guilt I felt at being protected by a younger boy. I was two years and a week older than him, and yet, he was the one trying to keep me safe. The one who made what he could to keep my odds at just forty paper slips instead of forty-two. The one that would keep Katniss from taking any tessera for the next two years, something I would’ve never been capable of, even if it had occurred to me. 

They had never told me how they met, but I suspected now it had to do with the way Katniss seemed to turn to him instead of me whenever her strength failed her. How she trusted the truthfulness of his intentions with her eyes closed. How she’d allow him to kiss her in the lips, and sometimes kiss him herself, and how all she’d ever done with me was reach for my hand in the forest. 

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm the pain in my chest that kept choking me whenever I thought of Katniss that way. 

I had fallen for Katniss without noticing just a few months after our first encounter in the woods, and I had been convinced that she was the love of my life. I had hated Peeta with passion when I first met him because it made me jealous how close they seemed to be, but it was almost impossible to be around him and not like him at some point, so we had agreed to compete fairly for her heart and be friends meanwhile. 

It had broken my heart when I saw her kissing his cheek on Prim’s birthday, but the way she had looked at me after the cake had given me hope again. I decided to reach out silently since I knew words made Katniss uneasy, and when she didn’t reject me I thought she was telling me to be patient, to wait until her heart could let go of Peeta. As if hunting a deer, I kept still, observing. I didn’t mind to share, after all getting to hold her close sometimes and feeling the warmth of her hand in mine was a dream come true. 

I had been so, so sure that she would eventually realize that we were the ones meant to be. We had so much in common, and I loved her so much, that I never once thought she might not decide anything and keep the status quo going for a whole year, but alas, that’s what had happened. And while I could notice her opening up more and more to Peeta, I felt like we were right where we had started, not moving forward nor backward in our relationship. 

Now I was eighteen, and if all went well at the next Reaping, I’d be an adult soon. I had to think of my future, and the last few months had made me understand the Katniss would never give me what I wanted and would never love me the way I needed. I was starting to realize she probably wouldn’t change her mind about marriage and kids, and if she did, she wouldn’t do it for me. Our relationship was bound to end soon, and that pained me more than I cared to admit. 

My only solace was that at least Peeta was a good guy. More than that, even. If I couldn’t have Katniss, I was glad it was him. It hurt my pride less, knowing she would spend her life with someone who could actually love her unconditionally, and would care for her in that self-less way I would’ve never been able to. 

“Want that second cup before heading out, Gale?” My mother’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I realized the sun was already out, barely. 

I shrugged my hunting jacket on and smiled wanly. “Yeah, thanks. It’s gonna be a long day.” 

Mom smiled. She poured two cups and we went to the porch, watching the early birds moving from tree to tree and the first miners heading down the road to work. As I saw them go, I silently said goodbye to my fantasies about sometime spending my mornings like this with Katniss next to me and resolved to distance myself from her as quietly as I had breached the gap a year before. 

There was no need to explain. We’d still be friends, of course. Good hunting partners were hard to come by, and it would be difficult to explain a rupture when essentially nothing had changed in our public relationship, so it made sense to stay that way. Also, a part of me was sure my love for Katniss wouldn’t fade away. It would just change. 

I drained my cup and handed it back to mom. 

“I’m going now,” I said, knocking the tip of my right foot three times against the first stair of the porch like my father had taught me to do before leaving the house. “Wish me luck.” 

My mom looked at me, serious. She knew what we were risking with today’s visit to the Justice Building but kept her worries to herself. “Good luck, Gale. Tell Peeta I said thanks.” 

I nodded and started the long walk downtown, breathing sharply. I had to stay focused on the task at hand now. 

For Katniss. 

And for Peeta, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I think next chapter we'll finally see the Reaping, but I can't make any promises. Hope you like this so far, see you next time!


	10. Ubuntu (the fact that we are all connected, and that one can only grow and progress through the growth and progression of others)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER!!! I had originally intended to put this here but somehow everything got messed up. Also, I'm back from the land of the death so expect more updates sometime soon. Happy new year!

** PEETA’S POV **

I was already at the steps of the Justice Building when Gale rounded the corner and caught sight of me. I resisted the temptation to wave him over, knowing that we needed to be as inconspicuous as possible if we wanted our plan to work, but couldn’t help to smile at him as soon as he was on hearing range.

“Morning,” I said as a greeting, unable to form a longer sentence. I was so nervous I feared I might vomit if I spoke too much.

Gale slowed his pace but didn’t stop, starting to climb the stairs to the building and only acknowledging my presence with a curt, “Hey.” I followed on his heels, keeping my head down until we were in the hall, waiting in front of a solid, polished wooden door with a little sign that read “Food Rations Registration Office. ONLY 12-18 Y.O. ALLOWED.” 

I asked Gale why didn’t we knock to let whoever was inside know we were there, but he just shrugged. “They know we’re here,” he whispered, and subtly directed my eyes to a small black sphere on the ceiling. He didn’t need to say more; Katniss had already warned me that the Justice Building was heavily monitored, whether by District officials or Capitol people she didn’t know, and had advised me to stay quiet until we were one or two blocks away with our tessera sacks.

The seriousness of the situation was suffocating. I could tell Gale was on high alert, pretending to slouch against a wall and picking at his nails distractedly, but in reality, his eyes scanned the hall and the people entering the building between his lashes. I thanked the heavens for the millionth time that he had agreed to accompany me; I trusted his hunting instincts and cautious nature to keep us safe until our deed was done.

The door to the office opened suddenly and a woman sitting behind a worn desk asked which of us was going to sign up. I looked at Gale one last time for reassurance, squared my shoulders, and went inside. If I was going to do this, I’d do it with my head held high.

** MADGE’S POV **

“Maysilee! Maysilee NO!!”

My mother’s screams woke me as per usual, abruptly taking me out from a peaceful slumber. Still groggy and rubbing the sleep forcefully off my eyes, I left my bed and went to my mother’s room across the corridor to wake her from her nightmares. As I caressed her sweaty forehead and told her soothing nonsense words, I wondered what it had been this time. Maysilee being Reaped? The Tribute Parade dream, where Maysilee went up in flames from a spark on her coal-dust suit? Or was it her memory of the pink birds perforating my aunt’s throat until she bled to death?

The images that plagued my mother’s dreams continually played themselves behind my eyelids too. She had recounted those memories to me so many times that it almost felt like I had been there beside her when it had all happened, even though it was way before I had been born, before my mother had gotten married, back when she was one of a pair of sisters instead of the only daughter of the Donner family.

Sometimes I resented her for dumping her fears on me, letting her grief and bitterness over her sister’s death slowly take over my life. But on moments like these, when she looked so frail and scared, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and taking her in my arms, softly rocking her while assuring her over and over again that it was all fake and she was safe.

When she finally opened her eyes, there was a painful clarity in them that made me dread her next words. “My medicine, little lamb,” she rasped. “I need it.”

After all these years, I was past the time when I tried to coax her to endure her ‘headaches’ just a couple minutes more, wanting her to stay with me a bit longer even if it meant she had to feel pain. Now, it was less and less frequent to see my mother’s eyes without the morphling-induced haze, and I had given up on trying to get her off the stuff. With some guilt but absolutely no regrets, I admitted to myself that I quite preferred her sleepy and languid instead of angry and screaming, so I always gave her the morphling whenever she asked for it.

I walked over to the vanity where she kept her Capitol-made cosmetics -which she only used on official auctions once or twice a year,- a small glass vase with a handful of wild flowers, -today it was a bouquet of honeysuckle Katniss had given me in exchange of coin,- and a plain wooden case where she kept twelve vials of her medicine and a reusable hypodermic needle.

While I went to the motions to prepare the shot, I caught a glimpse of the square through the gauzy curtains that covered the south window. It was clean –as clean as it always was, what with the black dust that seemed to cover the whole district- and empty, except for a pair of men –boys? - that carried six heavy-looking burlap sacks. I was about to dismiss the issue and go back to the needle when one of the guys turned and started to walk backwards, apparently talking to the other man.

My mouth dropped when I recognized Peeta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne –who else was that tall and broad, really, - walking together around town on plain sight of anyone who happened to look out their window so early in the morning. I had known they were friends, kind of, for at least a year since they started monopolizing Katniss during lunch, and we had even engaged in some polite conversation, but somehow it looked reckless of them to parade their friendship like that out of the school grounds.

It was an unspoken rule that kids were allowed to have school friendships with whoever they liked up to a certain point, but they were to keep their interactions at a minimum if they were from different... places. That’s why town kids stayed mostly with other town kids, and why I never invited Katniss over when other girls came to visit. 

It just wasn’t done.

And yet, there they were, gentle Peeta and gruffy Gale. Shaking my head, I hurried to charge the syringe with morphling and went to inject my mother’s arm. It wasn’t until I was back in bed to get a half hour more of sleep before school that I realized Peeta’s birthday was today, and that the burlap sacks they were carrying were very similar to tesserae sacks.


	11. Cafuné (the act of tenderly caressing the hair of your loved one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This used to be chapter 10, nothing but spelling errors have been changed!

** PEETA’S POV **

“It was about time,” barked my mother  when I entered the bakery using the backdoor. “The other shops are opening  soon , di d you want them to see you carrying  _ that _ or what?”

I blinked, trying to focus. My mind was across the district, in the Seam, where Gale would be carrying the tesserae sacks to his home for safekeeping until Katniss could pick them up later, and I found it difficult to understand what my mother was referring to. It worried me that Gale had to carry those heavy sacks alone, and there was also the omnipres ent fear of a Peacekeeper noticing those weren’t his... 

The whistle of the air was all the warning I got before the first slap. The sound was quite similar to wet dough being banged  on the worktable, and I had to bite my bleeding lip to keep me from laughing at the silly simile. I kept my head down, breathing deeply and waiting for the sting on my cheek to go away, not daring to move a muscle for fear of inciting her to hit me again.

“I was talking to you, stupid!! Or are you deaf now too?”

Not for the first time, I wondered why  M other treated me so differently from my brothers. When I was  little, I had thought it was only because I was a burden for the famil y, but even after I became a better baker than Rye and had become essential for the decoration of cookies and cakes,  she kept treating me like scum.  At  twelve , I had start ed to realize it had something to be with me personally, and had since abandoned all efforts to get on her “good side”. I had decided that her love –or that sickly sweet attitude she believed was love- wasn't worth pretending to be someone I wasn’t,  and that was one the most important things I’ve chosen in my life, the other one being befriending Katniss,  and Gale too, I supposed.

I looked up, resigned to keep the charade going so I could go put some ice on my lip before it swelled too much. Katniss would probably have a fit if she knew my mom  had hit me again. “I heard you, Mother,” I said politely, and lifted a little the tesse r a sack. “ No one saw me, I made sure of that. Where should I put this?”

Her eyes pierced me, and I started to sweat. Could it be possible that she knew that I had  accompanied Gale as far out of town as I could before coming back with my one ration? Did she know about the other tesserae? Would she care? I forced my face to remain impassive, trying to irradiate  the vibe of an innocent, obedient, polite son, and stared back. She finally grimaced and waved up dismissively. “ Up in your room where it can’t bother us. And better ration that grain wisely because it’s all you’re  gonna eat until the bakery  does better.”

My stomach plummeted to my feet, but I kept my face blank. I had suspected she was going to do that and had mentally prepared myself for the blow, but the child in me still suffered at being rele gated to the bottom of my family’s priorities once again.  When I simply nodded and made to go upstairs with my grain, my mother snarled and raised her hand again. “ Don’t you  _ dare _ to look at me like that, _ bastard _ !!” she yelled, swinging down.

And then, something inside me snapped. Anger like I’d never felt before surged from my belly and  exited my body with a roaring scream, and my right hand whipped up to catch my mother’s wrist mid-flight. Her bones felt thin and frail under my fingers, and suddenly I realized that now, at sixteen, I was taller, bigger and stronger than her.

As I let my anger seep out my pores and burn through my eyes uncontrolled, my mind chanted : _ ‘NO MORE, NO MORE _ _ , _ _ NO MORE!’ _ _. _

My mother stared at me, not a speck of fear in her. I didn’t know what I expected, but her silence was not it. She didn’t  back up. She didn’t try to release her arm. She didn’t even try to attack me with her other hand. She just stayed there , livid, her teeth bared in an ugly snarl that sadly looked at home on her face, until Bran entered the room and stopped short on the  threshold , shocked at the scene before him.

Like a spell, Mother and I retreated at the same time to let him pass with the  empty tray he was on his way to refill with sweet bread from the cooling racks. My brother hesitated for a second  before sliding between us with a muttered “Sorry” and making a show of cleaning the tray with a wet rag before selecting the next pieces to put on the storefront.

I refused to look away first. It may have been silly, but I knew instinctively that if I failed to stare for longer, I’d lose wh atever ground I had gained with my defiance . The fire in my mother’s eyes went out as suddenly as  it had come, and her shoulders slumped slightly. She  crossed her arms in a weird way, almost as if she were holding herself together or trying to ward off a chill, an d fixed her eyes at some point above my left ear.

“Go to your room. Now,” she ordered quietly, and I rushed  up the stairs. As I was reaching my room in the attic, I heard the door to my mother’s bedroom closing abruptly downstairs.

I didn’t see her for the rest of the day.

*************************

“Katniss!”

The giddiness I felt when I saw her waiting for me  under the shadow of the bakery’s old apple tree  made me forget about my split lip, but as soon as I smiled the skin broke and started to bleed again. I quickly tried to  hide the red blood with a swipe of my tongue, but Katniss’ hawk-like eyes had already seen it and a scowl had settled on her face.

Her fingers tightened on the strap of her messenger bag , but instead of giving me a piece of her mind she turned on her heels and  started walking briskly towards the school. I sighed silently and followed her at a more sedate pace, giving her some space to clear her head. It was an ongoing argument between us, the way my mother treated me. If I had let her, Katniss would’ve probably confronted mom about it several times by now, or at the very least she w ould’ve talked Mrs. Everdeen into kidnapping me and basically adopting me into their family to keep me safe from the abuse. She was always ranting about how I should defend myself no matter who the bully was,  and stating with passionate conviction that the moment my mother had first raised her hand against me, she had lost all respect I owed her for anything.

I myself wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t fought back before, other than I was too scared of either hurting my mother or myself more in the process , but I had to admit that now that I had done it, I felt  good. I knew then that I’d never allow anyone walk over me that way, ever again.  Yet, I couldn’t shake the worry of how this would affect my mother’s temper in the future. I hoped it wouldn’t come to  a  physical confrontation, because no matter how hateful she was, I still didn’t want to hurt my mother if I could avoid it.

I wondered where  would I go if she threw me out. It was unusual, but not unheard of, that a minor would  end up in the streets if their family repudiated them. Some went voluntarily to the  community home, but since the place was a ticket to a life of abuse and pneumonia, most gave up and starved in a matter of weeks or , if they were l ikeable enough , they’d become beggars around the Hob . 

Some kids would be  emancipated , which basically meant  someone over 18 with a n assigned house signed a cohabitation agreement  in the Justice Building notifying the Capitol that the minor would reside  in their home  from now on, but the  adult had no obligation to support the child economically or otherwise. Most people that did this usually  paid the kid with food and boarding in exchange of household chores and their yearly tessera ration , or sometimes they’d employ them in their shops if they were Merchant. Of course,  not many could afford the luxury to feed an extra mouth for too long , so in the end almost all the children ended up mysteriously disappearing or dying of a  “strange” sickness. At least the ones that weren’t Reaped, that is.

The ones who had a suicidal vein, would venture into crime until their luck ran out. Thievery was severely punished in District 12, and no criminal lived  beyond their twenties. The only reason there were still gangs in the district was that there were too many orphans and poor people to keep their ranks  growing  every year.

“Does it hurt?”

I stopped walking abruptly, my foot suspended in the air just inches above Katniss’. She was  turned towards me, her nose brushing my chest, and I rapidly stepped back, heart beating like mad.  No matter how much I  had  hugged her in the past two years , and no matter how many times I  had already  kissed her, having  Katniss close enough to smell her hair always  made my blood rush. 

Forcing back the sudden desire to bury my face on her neck, I scrambled to remember her words . “Does it hurt? My lip?” I asked, and Katniss nodded, serious. I smiled tightly, careful not to  re-open my wound. “Not really.  It’s just bothersome when you make me laugh.”

That got a reluctant smile from her. “I’ll try my best not to make you  too happy, then.”

“Impossible,” I replied playfully . “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”

Heat covered my cheeks, and I had to look away, embarrassed. I had a tendency to say things lik e that out of the blue and it used to make Katniss uncomfortable, which in turn made  _ me _ uncomfortable,  but it was a bad habit I didn’t seem to be able to outgrow. In my mind those phrases were harmless, witty and funny, but once they left my  mouth they transformed i nto the spawns of the Shame Monster. 

I was seconds from trying to will the ground to swallow me when Katniss chuckled and threw her arms around my neck. Stunned, I automat ically wrapped my arms around her and  succumbed to the temptation to brush my nose along the soft skin of her neck and take a deep br eath of Katniss Essence.

The stress of the previous night –which I spent tossing and turning tangled on my sheets and a web of nightmares, -  and this morning slowly left my body, instead being replaced by the sense of com fort and warmth that always invaded me when Katniss hugged me. For the first time since my mother’s demand that I signed up for tesserae, I felt completely at ease. I didn’t even care that we were in the middle of the street just a  block away from school and that people were staring at us -I could feel their eyes on my ba ck , - all that mattered w ere the soft planes of Katniss chest and waist, the hard muscles of her back and arms and her breath tickling my chin.

Without letting go of my neck, she moved her lips closer to my ear and whispered, “I’ m also happiest when I’m with you.”

I tightened my hold on her. 

Katniss, who always refused to express her feelings, had initiated a hug with me and then told me how she felt? What kind of twilight zone was this and how did I make it last?

Right as I was about to pull away to look her in the eye, I felt her raise her  left hand and tenderly card her fingers through my hair, combing it back and rubbing the ends with her tips in a soothing, repetitive motion that promptly had me leaning heavily on her to support my failing knees. No one had ever caressed my hair like that. Damn, the last time someone had put their hand on my head,  Rye had pulled so hard he ripped a bunch of hair from my scalp. The bald spot had remained for months before the hair grew a gain.

Inexplicably, tears came to my eyes. When Katniss made to pull  back, I held on, feeling the childish desire to stand there all day while she ran her gingers through my locks. 

I cleared my throat, but my voice was still broken when I asked “Can you keep doing that, please? Just two more minutes.”

Katniss fingers didn’t lose their rhythm. “Of course,” she said softly.

Then she turned her head a little and placed a light kiss on my cheek. “I’ll keep doing it for as long as you want,” she  promised, and a tear ran down my cheek. “Happy birthday, Peeta.”

I closed my eyes. This was the best birthday of my life.


	12. Waldeinsamkeit (the feeling of being alone in the forest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one used to be chapter 11, only spelling errors have been changed!

** PEETA’S POV **

After my birthday I  had to move out of home in a matter of  month s, when it became evident that my mother’s campaign  of hate against me had increased its virulence.  Something as simple as fresh drinking water was denied to me, and once the cold winter settled onto the District I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the fireplace or the bakery ovens to thaw my frozen limbs. One November night that I got back from the Everdeen’s particularly late, I found my grandpa’s old suitcase and a carboard box waiting for me at the backdoor steps and  all doors and windows of the house locked.

I didn’t bother to knock. 

Once I had made sure all my belongings were effectively packed in the suitcase and the box,  I made my way back to Katniss’ home as quickly as I could.  Mrs. Everdeen’s face when she saw me standing at her doorstep  reflected all the grief I had  tried to push aside as I walked the long road to the Seam, but her tight embrace  soothed most of my sorrow.

The next day I skipped school to go to the Justice Building early in the morning, and by noon Lilian Everdeen had become my official guardian to the eyes of the Capitol. Hazelle loaned me a couple blankets to settle my new bed on Katniss’ couch -Mrs. Everdeen had refused adamantly Katniss’ idea of us sharing a bed, much to my relief/disappointment- , and  once classes were over Gale took me to the Hob to trade  half a sack of my  tessera grain and a quart of berries for a pair of second-hand leather boots for hunting . They were a bit too big for me, but both him and Mrs. Everdeen agreed I’d need the extra space when I started growing again.

Even though I wasn’t nowhere near Gale’s height, I recognized it was a good idea since he was two years older than me and still growing, and my brother Bran - who wa s 23 - was almost as tall as him.

The following day after school, I went under the fence for the first time.  In all my years of friendship with Katniss, she had never issued an invitation to accompany her and I had never dared to ask. I could see the  apprehension in her eyes as Gale showed  me where and how to exit the District and cover my tracks - “ It’ll be  specially important when it starts snowing, which  will  probably be soon ,” he kept saying \- but she didn’t say anything .

Being in the woods was like entering a different world. The smells, the colors, the sounds... Once I found myself surrounded by trees , I understood why Katniss loved it out here more than anywhere else.  I had never felt truly, completely alone in my life until both my friends disappeared  in the dense green foliage, leaving me to pick the last strawberries of the year from a fenced patch near a small river.

As I worked in silence, nervously watching over my shoulder to confirm there were no wild dogs or other animals  lurking in the shadows , a  peaceful sense of solitude invaded me . I knew Katniss and Gale wouldn’t be too far , but I still felt like I was  the only human being left in the world, and that sense of solitude both frightened me and exhilarated me beyond words.

When I was done with the strawberries, I proceeded to collect  the wild onions Katniss had shown me earlier, the ones that looked like pretty flowers growing in the mud. The beauty of the flowing river water mesmerized me as I rinsed the dirt off the  roots and put them away in my school bag , so I  soon left the onions alone and started walking downstream,  absently  picking  up  anything that looked edible and putting it in my bag to ask Katniss later.

Right as I was starting to tire, a branch snapped behind me and I instinctively jumped acr oss the stream, falling on my knees and quickly looking towards where the  sound had come. Laughter reached my frightene d brain through the rush of blood in my ears, and I narrowed my eyes. It was hard to tell from my current position, but...

“Are you  _ on a tree _ ?” I asked, my voice shrill and incredulous.

Katniss jumped elegantly to the ground at the same time Gale came around it.

“It’s a big forest to go off on your own when you can’t even tell if someone is following you , little Peet,” Gale said , mocking . I was about to spew some angry retort when I noticed the worried frown on his face. 

I stood up and brushed the dirt off my pants, trying to come up with something placating but witty enough to take him off my back. “ Well, you both are such fine hunters I guessed you’d find me if you put your mind to it .”

Gale half smiled half snarled, but before he could open his mouth again, Katniss intervened. “Still, it’s dangerous to be out here alone. You should wait until you’ve got more experience.” 

I crossed my arms, frustrated, but  I  knew she was right. “I’m sorry,” I relented. “I won’t do it again.”

She smiled, and my heart felt full. I wanted to kiss her. Here, in the forest, the place she felt more at home , the Katniss I had worked so hard to discover was in plain sight. There was no bored mask covering the tilt of her lips, no gl oominess hiding the light in her eyes. I realized this was what Gale had gotten to see almost for  free and understood wh y he’d fall for her but still not understand all her different levels of complexity.

He hadn’t seen through the mask; she had just showed him because he had become part of her forest.  That was the reason he had struggled so much to comprehend why a girl so full of confidence and life didn’t wish to have a family of  her own or rebel against the Capitol. Here she was just defiant, lethal, adventurous.  Back home, inside the fence, she was still that, but also protective, cautious, quiet. And I realized I needed  to do something about it before things went wrong.

I cleared my throat. “I picked the strawberries and some onions, and also some other stuff I thought I recognized, but I’m not entirely sure,” I told Katniss,  crossing the stream again while handing her my bag. “Can you check and not lose your head when you find something definitely poisonous in there?”

Katniss rolled her  eyes but accepted the bag. “I’ll go sit over there.” She signaled towards a fallen tree a few yards upstream. Then she turned to Gale. “Maybe show him how t o wrap the bows? It’s getting late and we’d better go back.”

Gale nodded, took her bow and arrows from her shoulder and softly bumped my shoulder to show me the way. “Our hiding places are over there, ” he indicated vaguely, and I nodded as if I knew where we were.

When I could no longer see Katniss nor the stream, I spoke again.

“So.” I didn’t know how to have this conversation, and wasn’t sure I wanted to, but when Gale raised his eyebrow inquisitively, I plunged on. “What’ s going on in that head of yours?”

To his credit, he didn’t stop walking, but his hold on the bows tightened. “What do you mean?”

I stepped right in front of him, almost knocking him back. “You know what I mean,” I said, lowering my voice in case the sound carried farther than I intended. “You’ve been distancing yourself from Katniss again, like when she told us she didn’t want to get married. Y ou don’t even hold her hand anymore!”

Gale stayed silent, eyes fixed on mine. 

I had done  it; I had broken the taboo. The thing we hadn’t talked about for two years but that we all knew was happening. How Katniss would lay her head on my shoulder as she played with Gale’s fingers. How sometimes our hands would bump when the both of us tried to circle Katniss’ waist at the same time. How  he sometimes pulled Katniss on his lap playfully, and she would stretch out her neck to kiss my cheek anyway.

I hadn’t mentioned it earlier because long before Katniss knew about my feelings, I had decided to love her no matter what and take whatever she wanted to give me , no questions asked. At first, I had refused to  acknowledge the fact that Katniss had decided not to  choose that day at the Hob when the three of us sat together and she didn’t bat neither Gale’s nor my hands away when we reached for her, but later  I had simply accepted it, since it made Katniss happy. Secretly, I was convinced that given enough time, Gale would either accept it too –and we’d have a very weird but very close friendship from then  on- or he’d give up.

But for some time now, I had seen the signs. It was subtle  - the way Gale always was - but to me it was evident. He  had  started by kissing her forehead instead of her cheek when she hugged him. It had seemed weird, but I wouldn’t have paid attention if it hadn’t been accompanied with excuses to not spend lunchtime with us at school. First one, then three, and finally four days a week Gale ate at one of the round stone tables w ith his classmates, and  more often than not he was surrounded by girls. Very pretty, attention - seeking girls.

Katniss didn’t seem to care much, since we discovered that it was Gale’s presence and not mine which had scared Madge Undersee away. K atniss and Madge ate in silence while I kept running commentary on my thoughts about the weather, the other kids, our classes, etc., and Madge would sometimes add  a one-sentence opinion on the topic at hand before throwing a shy smile towards Katniss, picking up her stuff and go back to the classroom. She would even say “Goodbye Peeta” if what I had said was  especially interesting or funny.

She was one of the few town kids that still talked to me, and she was Katniss’ friend, so I liked her.

But when Madge became a permanent fixture in our school days and Gale started skipping some hunting days, Katniss began to worry. I still waited for them at the Meadow every eve ning, although I didn’t have to. We had befriended a young Peacekeeper, Darius, and he had assured us patrols near the fence were a rare occurrence unless it was Hunger Games season , but I felt more comfortable out on the grass than inside the Everdeen’s cramped household, so I kept doing that.

One afternoon, Gale came back before Katniss, and when I  asked he said he hadn’t seen her that day.  It was strange, but sometimes he needed to get back early to help  Hazelle so I dismissed it, except soon it became the norm . Saturdays and Sundays were the only days Gale still stayed out late, hunting, and even then, Katniss said he usually went his own way and only partnered with her when there was big prey.

I knew for sure something was wrong when we went today to the fence, and Gale didn’t  hold Katniss ’ hand a single time during our walk. He hadn’t been arrogant about teaching me how to walk carefully, nor about showing me the patch of berries  _ he _ had fenced off . I was tempted to let things follow its course, since in a way it benefitted me –with Gale away, Katniss attention was basically mine- but I couldn’t in good conscience let him ruin  his relationship with Katniss when I could shake some sense into him.

“What’s going on Gale?” I asked again, intent.

He tightened his lips , raised his head and squared her shoulders, and I braced myself for either a punch or a yell. When he finally spoke, though, his voice was rough  and quiet. “ I’m eighteen now Peeta. That’s what’s going on.”

I cocked my head, trying to understand. “What does that  have to do with Katniss?”

“It has everything to do with Katniss,” he said, and sighed. “ I want to be a good man.”

Gale walked around  me and I followed, mulling over his words. “But you already are a good man, Gale.” My mind went to a ll the times he had helped me out, how he had helped me fight off my brothers at school so they wouldn’t bother me anymore, and not tell Katniss about it to save me from the embarrassment.

“I’m not,” he replied quickly, and stopped in front of a twisty, knotty tree. He pulled a black square of some black material I didn’t recognize and some rope from a hole in the trunk, sat down and patted the  ground beside him. I sat. “But I want to. And a good man doesn’t lie.”

I watched him wrap one of the bows –his bow, probably, since it was bigger- with the black thing, folding the corners to make sure no water could get in, and then tie the rope around the package. Once it was  done, he threw it  to me so I could inspect it . “And what is the lie you’re trying not to tell?” I asked, because it felt like the right question to do although I still couldn’t follow Gale’s track of thought.

He reached out and took back the wrapped bow, then unwrapped it and handed it all to me. I sighed. Replicating that was going to take me some time. 

“That I love Katniss more than anything else in the world,” he answered, and I forgot  about the bow and the black square and the rope.

“What?!”

Gale smiled  sadly and reached over once more to take the bow from the dirt. As he brushed off the leaves and ants from the square of  plastic –it was  some kind of plastic , I was sure- he explained. “I’m eighteen and after the next Reaping, if I survive, I w ill be an adult. I’ll be assigned a house and I’ll get married, not in that order, and then I’ll have children of my own. And I’ll go down to the mines. ” I wanted to interrupt, tell him he’d never have to put a foot in that place, but I knew it was futile. Unless some miracle happened or both my broth ers died, that was bound to be my future too... minus the marriage/children thing, I supposed. 

I watched in silence as my friend wrapped his bow for the second time, more slowly and making a big show of every movement so I could copy it later. I was trying to concentrate on that, but there were things implied in Gale’s words that I needed to clarify for my mental health.

“So, you  _ do _ want to get married then?” I asked , turning my face to the left so I could pretend I hadn’t seen him wipe his eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“And you want children.” It wasn’t a question, but Gale still nodded. 

“Yeah.”

I took a big breath and turned to face him again. “And what about Katniss?”

Gale raised his stormy grey eyes to meet mine. He looked sad and tired, but also  sure of himself, and I realized this wasn’t just something he had come up with just because. In his pained grimace I saw the longing for a future he’d never have , and the acceptance of his reality. “Katniss will always have  _ you _ .”

The question in this statement was subtle, but I noticed it. “Yes,” I said. “Katniss will always have me.”

We smiled at the same  time, and caught each other’s forearm in a firm grip. Gale stood up in one fluid  movement and pulled me with him. “Then al l it’s good and done,” he declared before picking up the wrapped bow and returning it to its hiding place.

I didn’t reply. There was no need.

When we reached another twisty tree, Gale showed me where was the hole and I retrieved another piece of plastic and rop e to wrap the second bow. Unable to bear the silent scrutiny of my friend’s eyes as I tried to imitate his wrapping technique, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “ With how much you and Katniss know about the woods and hunting, it surprises me none of you have volunteered  for a chance at the Games.”

By the time my brain caught up with my mouth, Gale was already radiating that murderous vibe  that had scared poor Madge Undersee from her favorite lunch mate.

Deciding it was on my best interest to apologize immediately, I uttered a lame “I’m sorry”, staring with unnecessary intensity at the plastic in my hands.

I didn’t expect him to reply, but after a moment he said with gritted teeth “If I volunteered and died, my  mom would have no way to sustain three children on her own, even if Katniss fulfilled her part of the pact.”

This caught my attention. “The pact?”

Gale was giving me the sting eye, I was sure, but he still responded. “We promised some time ago that if one of us was Reaped, the other would still bring half the game to  the family until the kids are grown.”

I fiddled with the rope, trying to tie it securely around my –admittedly lumpy- package, but my mind was too preo ccupied with the news to make it work. Finally, I gave up and handled the bundle back to Gale,  whose tense jaw didn’t impede him from smirking at me.

“But wouldn’t that be too hard for just one hunter? To feed...” I did a quick mental headcount. “Seven people on their own?”

“It would,” Gale said as he unwrapped Katniss bow. “ But at least no one would die.”

That shut me up. Sometimes I still forgot how dire the situation was for people in the Seam. O n second thought, the pact made a lot of sense and was an admirable proof of friendship, especially on Katniss’ side.  No wonder Hazelle treated her like part of her family, and that Mrs. Everdeen did the same for Gale.

“She told me, you know?”

I  almost jumped back, started. I hadn’t been expecting him to talk again . “Who told you what?” I asked.

“Katniss,” Gale said, rolling his eyes. “She told me you promised her to volunteer if she was reaped, and that you’d help her win.”

A shiver ran down my spine, and I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment of fear what made me tremble. “When did she tell you that? And why?”

Gale shrugged, as if that was inconsequential. “The day I helped her carry  your tesserae to her house. I was ranting about how idiotic you were for doing that, which you we re, and then she just told me. She said you were that generous, and that she hoped you were lying, because she wouldn’t bear to compete with you at the Games.”

“She really said so?” I  wondered , more to myself than to Gale.

Above our heads, a bird with black wings and white tips took flight, taking me  out of my reverie. Gale seemed to snap out of his thoughts too, because then he started walking towards the stream and ca lled me over his shoulder. “We better go back for her before she thinks a wild dog murdered you and I’m trying to hide your body.”

I smiled. No matter how heavy our conversation had felt, Gale was a master of dissipating the tension with his dark sense of  humor . Five minutes later though, when we were reaching what I thought was the other tree with his bow, he abruptly turned on his heels  and put both hands over my shoulders.

“If Katniss is chosen, you shouldn’t volunteer,” he said intently. “Like you said, both her and I have very  high chances to win, but you are still too new to the whole fighting for your life thing. You might end up setting her back if she feels like she needs to protect  you, and she’d never be able to live with herself if she had to kill you. Only one person wins the Games, and if she goes, she needs someone to come back to, and th at someone has to be you.”

I stared, dumbstruck. The intensity of Gale’s words was carving a hole in my resolution, the one I had made unconsciously four years ago. There was sense in what he said, but something deep inside me rebelled against the idea of letting Katniss face death alone.

Gale shook my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “I’m being serious, Peeta. You’ve seen  Haymitch , he’s a very broken man and he’s a lone. If Katniss  has to play the Games, she can win. But she’ll need you here, taking care of Prim and her mom, and helping me hunt to provide for all of us. Do you understand?”

I did. I might not like it but it was the truth, so I silently nodded to myself and said “Yeah, I do.”

Gale let me go slowly. He was turning around again when a thought popped on my mind. “What if it’s Prim?”

“What?”

I tried to explain. “I offered to volunteer if it was Prim. This is her first year, so it’s possible, right? So, what if it’s Prim?”

He stared at me, terror, anger and resolution crossing his face in a split second.

“It won’t be Prim.” He said it like it was a command, as if by stating it he could make it come true. “ She’ll only have one slip, like Rory. They’re as safe as they can get.”

I nodded, unwilling to argue, but a bad feeling settled on my gut. How far was I capable of going for Katniss?  Enough to voluntarily take part in a nationally televised slaughter just to end up taking my own life so Katniss’ little sister, Primrose Everdeen, came home? Before taking the tesserae, the possibility of being on the Games was remote. Scary, but not too probable to consume my thoughts.

Now though, I had too many people I wanted to protect. I hoped I’d never have to find out how strong my love for them really was.


End file.
